Unto Space We Commend Thy Spirit
by Djinn1
Summary: Sequel to "This is the Ship." The USS Carter is finally ready to be launched but tragedy elsewhere has a profound effect on this event. Warning: Deals with Viral Hemorrhagic Fever, don't read when you're eating if you're squeamish.
1. Part 1

Unto Space We Commend Thy Spirit by Djinn (CARTER #3)  
  
"Release all moorings."  
  
Christine Chapel sat in the first officer's chair on the USS Carter as the ship prepared to move out of spacedock for the first time. Spock sat calmly next to her, relaying orders to his bridge crew.  
  
"Release all moorings," helmsman Lt. Mark Kimble repeated as he initiated the orders that would free the ship. "Moorings released."  
  
"Plot course 42-8."  
  
Lt. Kenara Sabuti at the navigation station punched in the settings. "Course set, Captain."  
  
Around the back and sides of the bridge stood assorted Admirals, Captains, and high-level Starfleet civilians. All of them were present to watch the launching of Starfleet's first diplomatic/medical relief ship.  
  
Lt. Saldusta spoke from behind Spock's chair. "Spacedock has cleared us for departure."  
  
"Take us out, Mr. Kimble."  
  
Kimble began to work his panel. "Aye-aye sir, maneuvering thrusters at full, moving out now."  
  
For the first time, the view outside the screens changed as the ship began to slowly surge forward.  
  
"We are clear of Spacedock," Sabuti announced.  
  
Spock looked at Christine, his face serene, but a smile playing in his eyes. "One quarter impulse, Mr. Kimble."  
  
"One quarter impulse, aye."  
  
The ship easily moved into to the higher speed as the impulse engines came to life without incident. They increased to half impulse, then full, without any problems.  
  
"Warp 1." Spock ordered.  
  
"Going to warp, Sir."  
  
Christine felt her shoulders tense as the ship moved into warp. This first use of the warp drive was the most dangerous moment in a ship's trial run. But the Carter jumped easily into lightspeed.  
  
"Accelerate as per Starfleet instructions for trial, Lieutenant."  
  
"Aye, Sir." Kimble began to run through the steady warp increases.  
  
Sabuti watched the monitors on her screens. "No drift, course is true, Sir."  
  
"Excellent, thank you, Lieutenant."  
  
Kimble looked up, "Warp 7 successfully reached, Captain."  
  
"Maintain that speed for ten minutes then reduce gradually to warp 5. Navigation, when we have stabilized at warp 5 change to rendezvous course."  
  
"Aye, Sir." Sabuti's voice was calm and confident.  
  
Christine felt a rush of pride in her crew. All of them were doing well on this first mission. Even though Lieutenants Kavall and Myrax had not had to participate actively she knew that the science officer was carefully tracking the emission's signatures as well as other readings. She could only pray they wouldn't need tactical this early in the mission but she had no doubt that Myrax would be ready if they did.  
  
"Warp 5, Sir."  
  
"Course correction plotted in and received. Rendezvous with fleet in seven minutes."  
  
She could feel the tension in the air start to dissolve. The Starfleet brass were happy to be heading off this ship and moving back to HQ or on to the launching of the Enterprise B later that day. The bridge crew couldn't wait to get out from under the intense scrutiny. And she, well she couldn't wait to get up and move around the bridge, all this sitting was making her nervous.  
  
"Fleet within visual."  
  
"They are hailing, Sir." Saldusta listened for a moment then continued, "They say congratulations on a successful launch and invite all Starfleet Command personnel to return to the awaiting ships."  
  
"Thank you Lieutenant. Mr. Kimble, slow to one quarter impulse."  
  
"Aye, Sir."  
  
The fleet came into view. Actually it wasn't much of a fleet as far as that went. Two small personnel carriers with armed escort for those returning to Earth and a destroyer to ferry personnel out to the Enterprise B launching.  
  
"Full stop."  
  
"Full stop, aye." The ship's stop was imperceptible to those on board. Only the now still vista from the viewscreens confirmed that they were no longer moving.  
  
Spock rose and faced the visitors. Christine followed suit.  
  
Admiral Nogura stepped out and smiled at then both. "Congratulations to you all on a successful launch. I can't tell you how impressed and proud I am with the entire crew of this ship. I can only hope our next launch goes as smoothly as this one. Keep up the good work."  
  
"Thank you, Sir." Spock answered for them all.  
  
Nogura started to turn then thought of something. "Shall I pass on anything from you to Captain Kirk?"  
  
Christine could sense Spock's body tightening beside her. He had not expected to be asked this. "Most kind, Admiral. Tell him, I wish him well."  
  
"I'll do that." The admiral turned to the rest of the party. "Those heading back to Earth are in the second transporter group. Ok? Let's go."  
  
It took some time for the crowd to all clear off the bridge, but finally the lift doors closed behind the last few VIPs. Christine felt her shoulders slump in relief, heard Kimble breathe a huge sigh, and saw Sabuti roll her neck to ease some apparent kinks.  
  
"Thank the gods that is over," Christine said to no one in particular.  
  
"Indeed," Spock replied. "You all did very well."  
  
"All visitors are off the ship, Sir." Saldusta was the last one to relax, she leaned back in her seat, breathing deeply from the humid vapor emitted by her choker.  
  
Spock looked around at his crew. "Very well. We have several days' worth of pre-set headings to test. I suggest we begin now. Mr. Kimble?"  
  
"Aye, Sir. Plotting course 1-1a. At your mark."  
  
"Now."  
  
The ship turned smoothly and headed out past the fleet toward the first destination.  
  
Spock rose. "Commander, you have the conn."  
  
I kind of like that sound of that, Christine realized, as she rose to walk the stress off by wandering the bridge.  
  
**********************  
  
As the shift wound down, Spock returned from his ready room to sit next to her. He had just finished a meeting with Kettering. They had gone over the engine tolerances during their initial jump to warp. Before that, Spock had been on and off the bridge. He stayed long enough to assure himself that all systems were fine and to tend his growing rapport with the crew but did not tend to stay so long that he made them nervous or grew bored himself. When he was on the bridge Christine could take time to get work done in her office or visit some other area of the ship. It seemed like a system that would work well for both of them.  
  
During their planning phase prior to launch, Spock and Christine had gone back and forth on how to work the shifts. Many ships had the Captain and First officer never sharing a shift. And for a normal ship it made sense. But in their case it was likely that one or the other of them would be heavily involved in the mission of the day in either a diplomatic or medical capacity. These times together on the bridge could grow quite rare once they truly began working on the assignment the ship was designed for. And most of their missions would be timed so that arrivals, departures, and other major events happened during alpha shift. Christine knew that they couldn't account for everything of course but generally speaking this ship would spend a great deal of its time in orbit while diplomats negotiated or healers responded to medical crises. So she and Spock needed to serve on the same shift.  
  
To supplement beta and gamma shift they had found two helmsmen with more experience than their relatively low grade would indicate. Lieutenant Paul Crawford had recently finished Officer Candidate School. He had previously been a pilot of one of the Starfleet VIP small personnel carriers. He had seen a great deal of action during that time and showed excellent judgment. Both Spock and Christine felt comfortable leaving him the conn when alpha shift rotated off. Later Lieutenant Calvin Larson would take over helm and the conn on gamma shift. Larson had been a private pilot, working for a company that provided armed escort for ships flying near the neutral zone. The beginning of the Federation-Klingon peace had put his employer out of business. Starfleet had been happy to snap him up. He was also sent through the Academy on the OCS accelerated tour so he could be ready for the Carter.  
  
The lift doors opened and Crawford arrived, followed by the back up navigator and tactical. Kavall and Saldusta's replacements came in the next lift. As the senior crew left the bridge, Spock gave the conn to Crawford and gestured for Christine to join him in his ready room.  
  
Christine stretched tired shoulders as the door closed behind them. "That went well, I thought."  
  
"I agree. I think we have cause to celebrate. Will you join me for dinner?"  
  
She was about to agree when she remembered a previous agreement. "Oh crap, I can't Spock. I've got dinner with Lieutenant Sabuti tonight. I'm trying to get to know her better, to figure her out. I don't feel right canceling on her." She made a face. "I'd rather celebrate with you."  
  
"It's alright, Christine. Your plans should stand. We will do this later."  
  
"Ok. I'm sorry."  
  
"Do not apologize. You are getting to know the crew and that is a good thing. I should probably do the same. I must admit that I have not spent much recreational time with any of my diplomatic colleagues. I prefer to spend time with you or with Commander Kettering."  
  
"He seems very nice."  
  
"He is. I think he is also a man of great integrity. I enjoy his company and I respect his character."  
  
"I'm glad. You should have friends. Friends are important. Even if it's only a few close friends, you introvert, you."  
  
"I could comment on the inverse of that."  
  
She laughed, "Don't bother. I've got to run. Have a good evening, Spock."  
  
"Yes. You too."  
  
***********************  
  
Sabuti was a completely gracious dinner companion. But at the end of the hour Christine knew little more about her than she had before they ate together. Well, I tried, she thought somewhat dejectedly. She had passed Spock and Sovar when she and Sabuti had sat down. They at least looked like they were having an intense conversation. But with Vulcans they could be discussing just about anything and look that enthralled.  
  
As she took her dishes to the recycler she noticed Spock was no longer in 3- Forward. When she entered an empty turbo lift she spoke to the computer. "What is the location of Captain Spock?"  
  
"Captain Spock is in the greenhouse."  
  
She smiled. "Deck 8." She accessed the door and stepped into the dark room. She listened for music but did not hear any. She had found him in the rose room last time, so she headed off that way. He was not there. Resisting asking the computer for his *exact* location, she thought over the rooms in the large area. Maybe the desert room. She found it quickly and looked around the small space filled with cacti and succulents. He was not there either.  
  
She took a more systematic approach checking each room but did not see him. Finally she went back to the rose room. "Spock?"  
  
"I am here." His dark form separated itself from the viewscreen but he did not approach her.  
  
"I didn't see you there. I checked about 15 minutes ago."  
  
"I did not hear you call."  
  
"I didn't. I guess I just took a quick look around and left when I decided you weren't here."  
  
"Ah." He turned back to the viewscreen, as if unwilling to leave his vigil for too long.  
  
She walked up to stand next to him. Looked out but saw nothing but fast- moving stars. "Is something wrong, Spock?"  
  
He nodded and sighed loudly. "Yes. But I am unable to ascertain what it is. I came here after dinner to relax but I have not been able to. Something just feels wrong."  
  
"Wrong how?" She studied his face. It looked tighter than normal.  
  
"Wrong as if something is missing. And I feel as if I should know what it is, but I do not. So I stand here watching this part of space. Wondering why."  
  
"Maybe it's just your way of manifesting the letdown I think we are all feeling. We've been under tremendous strain for so long. Now that we are finally underway there will be some impact as we try to relax from that stress."  
  
He nodded, his gaze not wavering from the stars. "That may be it."  
  
"But you don't think so."  
  
"No. I believe it is something more. But I don't know what."  
  
She touched his shoulder very gently. "Do you want me to stay with you?"  
  
He finally looked at her. "No. I will come with you."  
  
She smiled in relief. "I saved room if you want to get some dessert."  
  
He nodded and they walked out of the room. She could sense his need to look back but he did not turn his head.  
  
"Whatever it is, Spock, there's nothing you can do about it now."  
  
"I know." He stopped suddenly, reached out to push an errant lock of hair out of her eyes. "I am glad you are here."  
  
She grinned. "Me too." She broke the moment first, moving toward the door and saying, "So I'm thinking blackberry cobbler with vanilla ice cream. Or maybe some mocha butter cream meringue?"  
  
"I think I will stick with tea."  
  
"You don't want to eat?"  
  
He shook his head. "No. But I do want to be with you."  
  
"Well that's alright then. But if you were going to eat, which sounds better?"  
  
"I think the meringue. I have never had mocha butter cream."  
  
She made a sound of disbelief, "Never? Oh you have to taste this then. You are going to go straight to heaven."  
  
"Vulcans do not believe in heaven, Christine."  
  
"Well this will make a believer out of you."  
  
He smiled gently at her. "If you say so."  
  
"I guarantee it," she laughed as they entered the mess hall.  
  
*******************************  
  
The next day, Christine sat in her bridge chair watching the stars passing by lazily on screen as they headed out on the third heading that Starfleet had set for them. The first two trials, worked on by all the shifts yesterday had yielded only a few anomalous readings. For a shakedown cruise they were doing great.  
  
She watched the bridge crew. They were still learning each other's habits but their performance thus far had been exemplary. Kimble and Sabuti were busy at their stations. Occasionally talking back and forth too quietly for her to tell what they were saying. Kavall and Myrax were discussing the merits of modulating phasers or the straight blast. Christine swiveled to see what Saldusta was doing. The lieutenant was listening intently to something, a slight frown crossing her face. Christine got up and walked back to the comms station.  
  
Saldusta saw her coming and held up a finger as she appeared to listen even more intently. Suddenly her face went white and she looked up at Christine, distress clear in her eyes.  
  
"Saldusta? What is it?" The other officers looked over as she waited for Saldusta to pull the communications interface from her ear.  
  
"There's traffic, so much. Almost too much to make sense of. I've isolated the part that matters. It's a broadcast comms from Starfleet to the fleet. Captain Spock just got a copy of it on his private channel as well. Should I play it?" At Christine's nod, she punched in some codes and a voice filled the bridge.  
  
"This is Captain John Harriman of the Enterprise B. Yesterday, the ship after formal launching responded to a distress call of two El-Aurian refugee ships. We lost one ship and all crew and passengers to a temporal flux ribbon called the Nexus. We were able to rescue 47 refugees from the second ship but we remained in danger from the Nexus. Captain James T. Kirk, on board for the launching ceremony, successfully performed emergency modifications to the ship's deflectors, allowing us to escape. The Captain, however, was lost when the Nexus impacted the hull where he was working. His body has not been located and he is presumed dead. I cannot express how very sorry the entire crew is at this loss. Captain James T. Kirk was a living legend and it was an honor to have him on board. He lived a hero, and he died in the same way. Harriman out."  
  
"Oh my god." The words came out as a gasp. Christine looked toward the ready room. "Spock." She walked to his door, barely remembering to give Sabuti the conn. She buzzed the chime but there was no answer. "Medical override, Chapel A-D2-33."  
  
The door opened revealing Spock sitting motionlessly at his desk. She stepped forward to allow the door to close. "Spock?"  
  
"This is not a good time, Christine." His face was turned away from her.  
  
"Spock, I know. I know what's happened."  
  
He turned to look at her. His face was frozen into the extreme Vulcan mask she had not seen since V-Ger. "How could you know that? It appears not even Captain Harriman really knows what happened."  
  
"I just meant that I know that he is dead."  
  
He stood up and walked toward her. Every step was controlled, measured. His arms were behind his back. "And how do you know that, Commander? That message came to *me* on a private channel?" His tone was mocking. "Ah, let me guess. Our new communications officer does not know the meaning of the word *private* perhaps?" He turned away from her, paced to the viewport, stood looking out.  
  
"Spock, we got a copy of the message too. I want to help you. Please let me help."  
  
He did not look at her. "My best friend has died. He is lost to me forever. How can you possibly help?"  
  
The words hurt, as he meant them too. She knew his pain was making him strike out. He wasn't ready for her comfort. Maybe he never would be.  
  
"I loved him too. Many of us did. You aren't the only one that's lost something here." She turned on her heel and walked back out to the bridge. The faces waiting for her were too much. "I'll be in my office," she instructed Sabuti as she headed for the door of her own space.  
  
"Quarter lights," she ordered. She fought the tears that threatened. Tears for Kirk, tears for Spock, tears for herself. Some of the goddess figures gleamed in the low light. Help me, she thought. Help me know what to do for him. For us all. This could be the end of everything if Spock turns away from us. She picked up the Kuan Yin she loved so. "Please Mother. Please help him."  
  
Taking the statue with her she sank into her desk chair and stared out into space, not realizing that she was repeating the words like a mantra. "Help him, please help him."  
  
*************  
  
When her own door chime buzzed she did not know how much time had passed. "Come."  
  
Saldusta entered. "Commander?"  
  
"Come in, Lieutenant. What is it?"  
  
Saldusta came to stand before her, eyes used to murky depths having no problems with the darkness.  
  
Christine was having trouble seeing her though. "Half lights." She could now make out the expression on the woman's face. It was one of uncertainty.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Another message has come in. For Captain Spock. The person sent it three days ago but didn't mark it priority. It's just shown up now."  
  
"Well send it to his message queue. I'm sure there will be lots of messages coming in for him now."  
  
"Sir, it is from Captain Kirk."  
  
Christine suddenly felt helpless against this new twist. "What do I do with it? It's probably a congratulations message. I don't know if he will even look at it. Or if he should."  
  
Saldusta's voice was firm, "He should."  
  
Christine looked up at her. "Why?"  
  
"When loved ones are taken from us suddenly it can leave a person feeling betrayed.by the one who died. It might help to know that they were thinking of us, at least a little, before they left us forever." Saldusta had tears in her eyes that she fought to hold back. Her hands were clenched into fists. Her voice was barely audible as she whispered, "I know it would have helped me."  
  
Suddenly it all made sense to Christine. She rose slowly, afraid to spook the woman. "Your mother? She died?"  
  
Saldusta nodded. "Two years ago."  
  
"When all your problems started."  
  
"Yes, I.I," she trailed off as she fought for control.  
  
Christine felt her heart wrench. She walked around the desk slowly, stopped when she was within a few paces of the woman. "Saldusta, I can't take your pain away. And I can't make your life different. I can't bring back your mother and make her the woman you wanted her to be, needed her to be. I can't do any of that." She held her arms out wide. "But I can give you a safe place to grieve. To let it all out, if only for a little while."  
  
For a moment she thought she had said the wrong thing. Saldusta stood so rigidly that her trembling was visible. Tears spilled over and she didn't fight them. Suddenly with a ragged, almost inhuman, cry she took the two steps to fall into Christine's arms. Sobs shook her body as she wept like a child in the embrace that enclosed her tightly.  
  
"That's it. Let it out. You're safe now." She made soothing noises and stroked the silky scales on Saldusta's head till finally the woman calmed. She led her to the couch and sat next to her, let her curl up with her head in her lap. Continued to stroke her head as silent sobs, like aftershocks, rocked her.  
  
"I've never talked about it, about her."  
  
Christine's made her voice as gentle as possible. "You can talk about it now."  
  
"You said you didn't want to know."  
  
"Forget what I said. That was then. I'm listening now if you want to tell me."  
  
Saldusta took several shaky breaths before beginning, "I worshipped my mother, and my father. I was so happy as a child. I thought life would go on forever like that. Then she left. And I thought it was something I did. Something bad. I was so afraid my father would go too. So I was the perfect daughter, never misbehaving, always there. He never talked about her so I didn't either. But all I wanted was for her to come back to us. I used to pretend things. Bad things."  
  
"What kind of things."  
  
"I used to think that if she would just get sick, she would have to come home. And then we'd be together and I'd have her near me again. That I would lie next to her in the shallows and she would tell me how much she loved me and how sorry she was for leaving me and that I was her greatest joy. This fantasy sustained me for so long. I had other variations of it where she wasn't sick but crippled or heartbroken or shamed or anything that would bring her back to us."  
  
"But it didn't turn out that way?"  
  
"No. Two years ago she got sick. Just like in my fantasy. She had weeks to wait for death, totally lucid. She had plenty of time to record a message. Or write a letter. Or to send a gift from our crest showing that she cared of me. But there was nothing. Nothing. She never thought of me at all."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"That's when I changed. Any woman that remotely reminded me of her, and it seemed as though any superior officer that happened to be female reminded me of her, got to deal with my anger with my mother. I knew it was wrong, and stupid. But I became." she trailed off.  
  
"You became trapped in your own pain." She released Saldusta as she sat up.  
  
"Yes. Until you. You wouldn't give in to me. I wanted you to reach out so I could reject you the same way she rejected me. But you didn't."  
  
Christine smiled at her. "I didn't know what to do at first. This seemed like the best course of action. I wasn't sure though."  
  
Saldusta nodded as she wiped her eyes with her hand.  
  
"Hang on," Christine said as she got up and walked to her desk. She brought over the box of tissue that Spock had told her she would need. It had not made sense at the time but now she understood.  
  
Saldusta cleaned herself up and stood. "You have to tell him it's there. He has to know that his friend thought of him."  
  
"Why do you care so much?"  
  
"He's like me," the woman said simply. "We come from two worlds and have to fight to fit in either. Everything we do is twice as hard, and every pain we feel hurts twice as much." She looked at Christine knowingly. "He struck out at you didn't he? You have to deal with him the same way you did with me. Don't back down."  
  
Christine stood amazed at the young woman's perception. And realized that she was right. "Ok. Route it in to him and mark it immediate. But give me five minutes, I want to tell him first."  
  
Saldusta nodded. "Thank you, Commander. I'm sorry I broke down."  
  
"I'm glad I was here for you. And if you need me again, you know where to find me. And don't ever say you're sorry for opening up. Do you understand?"  
  
Saldusta smiled, the motion transformed sullen features into something beautiful. "Yes, Sir. I wouldn't want you to have to make it an order."  
  
Christine followed her out and walked back to Spock's door. He was still ignoring the chime so she again used her medical access to enter.  
  
Spock turned angrily away from where he was still standing in front of the viewport. "Commander, you are trying my patience."  
  
"I came to tell you that you have a message waiting. It was sent three days ago. By Jim. For you."  
  
He was suddenly as angry as she had ever seen him as he strode across the room and grabbed her arm. "And I suppose you are going to tell me that you and *Ensign* Saldusta have read this message too?"  
  
Calling on strength she didn't know she had she shook loose of his grasp. "No, Spock. We don't read your private messages. We wouldn't do that."  
  
"How do I know that? How do I know anything about you, about anyone?"  
  
Christine remembered Saldusta's words. Deal with him the same way she had with her. "I can see that you are hurting, Spock." He began to reply but she cut him off, her tone like iron. "You are in pain and you are trying to deal with it. Well you do that; you deal with it in your way. You hide in this office and keep everyone at bay. Be alone, be whatever you need to be. But you will NOT take it out on me. Or on your crew. You will not lash out at people who care for you and who just want to protect you. And you will not take any disciplinary action against Saldusta or you will answer to me. Is that clear, Captain?"  
  
They stared at each other. Spock was furious and for a moment she thought he might actually strike her. She was angry enough to take him on if he did. But the rage died from his eyes and his shoulders suddenly slumped. His tone was odd as he mumbled, "I have offended thee."  
  
"Damn right you have. But I'll get over it. Now, do you want me to stay or do you want to be alone."  
  
"I would like to be alone."  
  
"Fine." She left without a backward glance and took her seat on the bridge. She sat through the rest of her shift, pretending to be composed.  
  
*******************************  
  
As the end of the shift neared, Christine discreetly checked the computer to see if Spock had left his ready room. He had not set foot on the bridge since they had learned of Kirk's death but she had hoped that he would use the private door to effect an escape to his quarters. He seemed in no hurry to do so. She sighed and rose from her chair, walking around the bridge restlessly.  
  
Saldusta caught her eye and as she walked over the woman leaned forward and said in a soft voice, "Sir, if you want me to stay, I will."  
  
Christine looked at her perplexed. She had just decided that she wasn't leaving the bridge till Spock did. How did Saldusta know?  
  
The younger woman smiled grimly. "You always get a certain look a few minutes before shift change. Like you can't wait to get off the bridge. You don't have that look. And with all that's happened. I just figured you would be staying."  
  
"That doesn't mean you have to."  
  
"But I.want to. I want to help."  
  
Christine looked at the young woman. Her face shone with sincerity. "Ok. It'll make it easier to have you here. But you've been through a lot today, if you feel yourself crashing, I want you to let me know." At Saldusta's nod, she continued, "You better call Ensign Tompkins and tell him not to report."  
  
Saldusta grinned, "I already did. About 10 minutes ago." Her face turned serious. "Commander, the messages for Spock area queuing up steadily. He hasn't accessed any of them, not even the one from.you know."  
  
Christine took in the information. "That's good to know. And I want you to keep paying attention and telling me what's going on for the duration of this.um.crisis. But let me give you a warning. Be very careful of saying things like that around Captain Spock. What we consider normal curiosity for our jobs he might see as aberrant nosiness. Vulcans are intensely private and he views his comms as his business alone. Intellectually he knows they go through your department, but that will not change his need for privacy. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, Sir. Thank you for the warning." Saldusta's eyes unfocused slightly as another comm came in. "This one's for you, Commander. Private message channel. Shall I route it to your office?"  
  
Christine nodded and walked through her office door to her desk. "Computer, open private channel."  
  
Uhura's face appeared on the screen. "Chris, honey? Have you heard?"  
  
Christine nodded taking in the marks that grief had left on her friend's face. "We received a message earlier today. I feel so guilty, we can't get back for the funeral, or the memorial rather."  
  
"It's tomorrow. Most of the crew won't be back. Sulu and Rand are on Excelsior. Scotty and Chekov are still on the Enterprise, scouring space for him if I know those two. They won't just give up on his being still alive."  
  
"So who's with you?" She took in the unfamiliar backdrop behind Uhura's head. "And where are you?"  
  
"We're at Jim's house. He had no surviving next of kin, so we came to close out his affairs. Leonard's came over from Savannah, he's out or I'd let you talk to him. I live in the city so it was no problem for me to come over. Oh and Saavik's here."  
  
"Saavik?"  
  
Uhura nodded. "Yes. Funny isn't it. Apparently after the death of his son, while we were all on Vulcan she and Jim struck up a friendship. She was the last piece he had of David, and in a way she felt responsible for his death. They became close and he made her his executor."  
  
"Close? You don't mean."  
  
Uhura shook her head. "No, I don't think I do. I honestly think that he became a sort of surrogate father to her. The way Spock had been, until his death and refusion. For years after that she and Spock did not enjoy the easy relationship they had had. And Saavik and Valeris did not get along, another factor that pushed her toward Jim."  
  
"So you're closing up his house? That's hard, I did it when my mom died. So many memories." Christine became aware of a strange noise in the background. Not quite a wail, more like a roar. It went on for long seconds then stopped, only to resume again. "Ny, what is that noise?"  
  
Uhura suddenly looked close to tears. "It's the Klingons." At Christine's look of surprise, she hurried to assure her. "No really. A group of warriors came down from the embassy. They've been here for hours, sitting in front of the apartment. Saavik went out to talk to them, she found out that the sound is the Klingon Ritual of Entrance. They make that sound to announce to the warriors in Sto-vo-kor, kind of the Klingon version of Valhalla, that a worthy soul is on its way."  
  
Christine felt her own tears threatening. "Wow. Who would have thought that the Klingons would honor him so? What an incredible sound."  
  
"It's creepy." At Christine's expression she elaborated, "I don't mean the action is creepy, but the sound is. Because it hits me so deep. Until I heard it, I didn't know what sound my heart would make if it could. But this is it. All the music in the world couldn't soothe me, but this howling brings me peace. Ironic, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, it is." Christine instructed the computer to save the sound and Uhura's explanation. "I want Spock to hear this. He was the one that worked all those years for this. I think he will see it as the ultimate indication that his efforts were truly successful. And it might bring him some peace too."  
  
"How's he doing?" Uhura's eyes showed she knew the answer already.  
  
"Not good. He's shut down basically."  
  
"And shut you out?"  
  
Christine nodded. They were silent for a moment. Then her friend gave her a fierce look, "Don't give up on him, Chris. We can't lose him too."  
  
Christine felt herself close to tears. "I know, Ny. And I'm trying. But I don't know how to reach him."  
  
Uhura's eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "If anyone can do it, you can, Christine. Just don't give up, no matter how hard it gets. If you need me, I'm here."  
  
"Thanks, Ny." She reached for the screen to break the connection. "Chapel out."  
  
*******************************  
  
When Spock had still not left the bridge by the end of Beta shift, Christine felt herself in a quandary. She did not want to disturb him a third time, but she also did not want to leave him alone on the bridge. She knew that she was at the end of her emotional rope, and Saldusta's normally tan face was gray with fatigue. Just as she had made her mind up to send a message in to him his door opened.  
  
His face was a perfect Vulcan mask as he took in the continued presence of his second-in-command and communications officer. "Commander, Lieutenant, I suggest you retire for the night. We have a great deal of work to do when our shift begins."  
  
Saldusta nodded, clearly relieved to see him out of his office. "Yes, Sir."  
  
Christine just looked at him. His eyes met hers stonily. So it comes to this, she thought. You won't reach out. So be it. "Goodnight, Sir."  
  
He did not reply. As the lift opened, several Gamma shift bridge officers reported to duty, sympathy written on their expressions. Spock nodded tersely to them as he entered the lift.  
  
As the doors closed, Christine felt the energy that anger and adrenaline had given her drain out of her. She looked at Saldusta, "Let's get going."  
  
The communications officer turned over the post to her replacement and followed her into the next lift. "Will he be alright?"  
  
Christine shrugged. "Only time will tell, Lieutenant."  
  
Saldusta nodded unhappily and sensing Christine's mood kept quiet for the rest of the short trip.  
  
Once safe in her cabin, Christine turned on her comm unit to the Federation news channel. There were ongoing reports including a replay of a biography done on Kirk when he had retired. Some masochistic instinct within her demanded that she watch it. Five minutes into it she was lost in grief, hot tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks. Sadness fought with exhaustion as she sat on her couch watching her former Captain's life story play out. Finally her eyes could no longer stay open and she turned off the program and staggered to her bed. She was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow, soft sobs following her into slumber.  
  
********************  
  
Her alarm went off much too early. She got up, feeling numb and off- balance. Her first thought was to grab a painkiller to still her aching head. Her second thought was for Spock. She felt a wave of helplessness as she realized she didn't know how to help him. She considered calling his mother, even moved to the comm unit, but at the last minute realized that Spock would probably consider such an action a further betrayal of his privacy. Damn you, she thought. How do I help you if you won't let me in?  
  
Her door chime rang and she felt a surge of hope. "Come."  
  
It was not a tall Vulcan that walked in but a short human. Lt. Commander Renata Farrell looked at her with the empathy that years of friendship had forged. "Are you all right?"  
  
Christine nodded slowly.  
  
"You're not all right." Farrell walked to her, pushed her over to a chair. "Sit."  
  
She sat. "I am ok. Really."  
  
"I don't believe it, sweetheart. Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
She shook her head. "I can't, Ren."  
  
Farrell sat in the chair opposite her. "Ok. But if you need to talk, I'm here." She handed over a pad, "In the meantime, I thought you might need a distraction. These are the results of the drills we've been running. I think you'll be pleased at the section's performance."  
  
Christine gave her a small smile. "I'd expect nothing less from Disaster Relief, not with you at the conn down there."  
  
Farrell rose. "Get off the bridge if it gets to be too much, Chris. Don't let him hurt you."  
  
Christine was surprised at her friend's words. "He's the one that is hurting, Ren. I can't just abandon him."  
  
"No. I suppose you can't. You never could."  
  
"You don't understand."  
  
Farrell cut her off, "And I never will. God, Christine, I thought you were over this. Over him. Let him go and let him handle this whatever way he has to. He just lost the person he loves most in this world. You can't compete with that."  
  
Christine fought the anger she felt at Farrell's words. "It's not a competition. They were friends. I'm his friend too. It's just different."  
  
"Are you sure that friends is all they were?"  
  
"Yes. I'm sure. Best friends. Ok, more than friends, but not lovers. They were like brothers."  
  
Farrell shook her head and headed for the door. As it opened she turned back, "Are you sure? Are you really sure?"  
  
Christine had no reply as the door closed behind her friend.  
  
************************  
  
Alpha shift seemed never-ending. Spock sat on the bridge, unmoving, silent except to impart a new order. His face was frozen into the stoic expression she had come to hate during her first tour with him. He did not meet her eyes, nor did he interact with the rest of the crew unless absolutely necessary.  
  
As the shift wore on the young bridge crew grew more and more tense. Saldusta stuttered when she relayed a message to him, Kimble repeated an order back incorrectly, and Kavall had trouble answering one of Spock's barked questions. Even the normally unflappable Sabuti and Myrax seemed affected by the strain.  
  
Just as Christine thought she was going to scream, Spock rose and gave her the conn for the rest of the shift. As the turbolift doors closed behind him a collective sigh of relief emerged from those left on duty. Beta shift crew started to show up a few minutes later and Alpha shift virtually fled from the bridge. She was the last to leave, thankfully giving the conn to Lieutenant Crawford.  
  
When she reached her cabin her message light was blinking. As she engaged the recall Dr. Leonard McCoy's voice filled the room. "I'm at Jim's house, darlin', call me."  
  
She quickly fed the connection data in and in seconds her old mentor appeared on the screen.  
  
"Hello, Len."  
  
"Chris. How are you doing?" His eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance. "Not too good from the look of you. Want to tell your old friend about it?"  
  
She sank into the chair at the desk. "Yes. Yes, I do, Len." She was silent for a moment and he didn't press her. "It's awful. Just awful. I can't reach him. He won't let me."  
  
McCoy knew without asking who she meant. "It's going to take some time, darlin'. You know that."  
  
"But what if he never lets me in again? How do we work this way?"  
  
He shrugged. "You get though it like the professionals you are. But I think he'll need you sooner rather than later. Just give him time. Be patient."  
  
She nodded at his words. "You're probably right. But it hurts to be shut out."  
  
McCoy nodded. "I know."  
  
They were quiet for a moment, both lost in thought. She remembered Farrell's words, realized they had been gnawing at her. "Were they lovers, Len?"  
  
He looked startled. "Who? Spock and Jim?" His lips pursed as he considered the question. "Well some people certainly thought so. The rumors were always flying."  
  
"That's not an answer."  
  
"Hon, it's the only answer I can give you. I don't know that they were lovers. But I don't know that they weren't either." He saw her face fall. "Christine, what difference does it really make? Spock loved Jim more than anyone. Maybe more than he will ever love anyone again. Whatever they were, whatever they meant to each other, love has died and that is all that really matters. The pain is the same, no matter what the relationship really was."  
  
She nodded, feeling suddenly very small. "You're right. I guess I lost sight of that in my own hurt."  
  
McCoy frowned at her. "Sweetheart, Spock is going to need *you* now. Maybe not right at this moment, but eventually he is going to crack. And you'll be the one he reaches out for. Don't give up."  
  
She replied uncertainly, "I won't."  
  
"Say it again, and mean it this time." His look was sternly affectionate.  
  
She took a deep breath, "I won't."  
  
"That's the Christine Chapel I know and love." His smile suddenly broke as he allowed his own grief show through.  
  
"Oh, Len," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."  
  
"I know. We all knew it was only a matter of time before one of us became the first to go. But it's the not knowing. If we had his body, if we knew for sure."  
  
"We'd have some sort of closure."  
  
He nodded. There was silence as they just looked at each other through their tears. "I've got to go, Christine. Call me if you need me."  
  
"I will, Len. Take care of yourself."  
  
He nodded as he leaned over and cut the connection.  
  
*******************************  
  
She puttered around her cabin for a time, ordered dinner that she then found herself not wanting to eat, tried to catch up on some reading but couldn't concentrate. She sat on the couch but was too restless to watch the vid she had ordered. She undressed and stretched out on her bed but found herself too keyed up to sleep. Finally in desperation she threw on some casual clothes and headed for the door. In the corridor she stopped for a moment and stared at Spock's door. She considered asking the computer for his whereabouts, then decided it didn't matter.  
  
She fled the hall, grabbed the nearest lift and then couldn't decide where to go. 3-Forward was too busy, the Special Forces lounge too noisy, the VIP observation lounge too quiet and technically off limits. Her office seemed too full of recent memories. She briefly considered the gym but then decided she was not in the mood to work out.  
  
"Deck 10, Aft," she finally said. The lift opened smoothly and she found herself on the first of the engineering decks. And now that I'm here, she wondered, what do I do? She began to walk to the entrance to main engineering. The doors opened onto the upper level of the large space. She looked down on the engineering crew, going easily about their business. No one had noticed her yet and she suddenly had the urge to get out before anyone did. She followed the hallway around deck 10 for a while, smiling and nodding at those crewmembers she passed but not really seeing any of them. A lift opened up in front of her and two ensigns got off. She entered just as the doors were closing.  
  
"Destination?" The computer's voice was cold. Nearly as cold as Spock's had been today. "Destination?" It asked again.  
  
"Deck 8."  
  
In no time she was standing in front of the hydroponics bay. She wanted to go in but she didn't know if that was because the space might offer her the peace she was not finding elsewhere or if she secretly hoped Spock would be in the greenhouse area as well. She stood for some time and the door suddenly opened, surprising her.  
  
"Commander, I'm sorry, you startled me," the lieutenant was carrying several flowers in her hands. At Christine's glance she hastened to explain. "They fall off or droop. We never pick them for ourselves when they are in full bloom, but once they are past their prime they are fair game for the botanists that work here."  
  
Christine nodded. "Of course. And there should be some benefit to all the hard work you lavish on these plants."  
  
The botanist hurried to protest. "Oh but it's not hard work at all. This is the most amazing biospace. I've never been on a ship with such a large growing area. It is pure paradise to report to work."  
  
We could trade, Christine thought with bitter humor. Reporting to the bridge tomorrow should be pure hell. She forced herself to smile. "I'm glad to hear you are so happy, Lieutenant. Please don't let me keep you."  
  
"You're going in there, ma'am? There's no one left inside."  
  
"Sir, not ma'am. And being alone will suit me fine." She saw the uncertainty in the Lieutenant's eyes. "I'm fully authorized to enter this space, Lieutenant. But I applaud your concern for security. Now you can go."  
  
"Yes, Sir." The woman moved off without a backward glance, apparently seeing something in Christine's eyes she didn't want to mess with.  
  
The space was nearly dark as Christine walked through the lab area. She made her way to the tropical room, felt the warm, humid air surround her, smelled the deep, almost meaty smells of the blossoms. She sat on a ledge and just breathed, in and out, trying to relax, trying to find her center, and failing utterly.  
  
"Dammit," she yelled out loud. "Dammit all to hell!" She felt an unaccustomed rage overwhelm her, anger so deep she was thrown off balance by it. Why now. Why the hell now? Everything was going along fine. Now it's all wrong. Everything is wrong.  
  
She wanted to flee again, run to some other area. She turned, too quickly, and slammed her foot into an empty planter. "Shit," she cursed as tears filled her eyes in response to the pain, the anger, and the underlying sorrow. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"  
  
Limping slightly she walked to the rose room. The sweet odor of the flowers soothed her slightly. She remembered the night Spock had played for her.had it been just weeks ago? Everything was so far away now. She moved to a flower, a light purple one, and buried her nose in the blossom, trying to lose herself in the scent. Not even the powerful sweetness of the rose could divert her thoughts.  
  
She walked to the viewport, stared at the stars streaming by. Spock had stood in this very spot. He had known. He had known Kirk was dying and he had not been able to do anything. And she had diverted him from his vigil. For a silly dessert.  
  
"I should have let you stay," she murmured as she placed her hands against the ledge. "Should have let you keep watch."  
  
Two hands appeared on either side of her own. A voice, deep, resonant, filled with pain, answered her. "You didn't know."  
  
She tried to turn around but his hands moved to her arms, holding her in place. "Do not. I am not myself. I do not know if I can stay if you look at me." When she did not resist, his hands fell away. By the sound of his footsteps she realized he was walking among the roses.  
  
"They do not bring peace," she whispered bitterly as she continued to stare out at the star field.  
  
"No. They do not." His voice now was calm, still cold but no longer frigid. "What does bring peace, Christine?"  
  
"I don't know. I've been looking.tonight.for it. It's elusive."  
  
His voice again was nearby. "Yes. It is."  
  
They were silent for some time. She could hear his footsteps as he again paced through the roses. She sighed. "It's the anger that's the worst. So deep, so raw."  
  
She felt him come to stand next to her. "Yes. Anger. Rage. I am a Vulcan. I should not feel this. Yet I do."  
  
"You are human, too."  
  
"Yes. I am human, too." His voice moved off again. "I have felt something like this before. Anger. At a betrayal."  
  
"Betrayal?"  
  
"Surely you have heard of Valeris, Christine?" His voice was slightly mocking, although which of them he mocked she could not tell.  
  
"I have. But I do not know the story."  
  
He sighed, loudly. "And I shall not be the one to tell you it. Suffice it to say, she betrayed me, in the way only one who is loved can. I hated her; I wanted to hurt her. That situation is nothing like this. Why do I feel the same rage?"  
  
"Because he abandoned us, abandoned you most of all."  
  
"That is illogical."  
  
"Nevertheless, it is what we are feeling." She took a chance and turned around. Met his eyes, so deeply hooded as to be unfathomable. "It hurts."  
  
He nodded. "Yes. It does." He did not look away. "When does it stop hurting?"  
  
She felt as if his eyes were burning into hers. "I don't know." She walked to a rose, breathed deeply of the scent. Turned to find him in her place, staring at the stars. She went to stand next to him. Put her hand on his arm. As he turned to look at her, she let it linger there for a moment more, then released him. "It will never get better if you shut us out."  
  
His expression did not change. "Shut *you* out, you mean."  
  
"Shut me out. Yes. I don't know if I can help you, Spock. But I do know that I'll never be able to even try if you won't let me in."  
  
His eyes were gentle and his tone was calm. "There is no room for you at the moment. There is only this pain. Perhaps, when it is less crowded inside me, I will come to you.let you in."  
  
She nodded. It was a start. As he turned back to the stars she walked to the entrance. At the door to the rose room she turned for a last look at him. "I grieve with thee," she whispered so low that even he couldn't pick up the words.  
  
*******************************  
  
Christine walked quickly to the turbolift, eager to put some space between herself and Spock. The conversation, while honest and more open than she had expected, still left her unsettled. What if he never wanted her back in his life? In any capacity. How cold would this voyage be without the easy friendship that they had forged in the last few months, and that she had already come to take for granted. It was a new and tentative thing and she would be well advised to tend it as such.  
  
The lift doors opened at deck 4 and Lt. Colonel Randall Kerr stepped in. "Doctor," he nodded to her politely.  
  
"Colonel," she nodded back to the special forces chief. She realized he was studying her closely. Uncomfortable, she turned away a bit.  
  
"You look like you could use a friend," he offered gently.  
  
"I'm alright," she protested.  
  
"If you say so. I was just heading up to 3-Forward for a drink. Maybe you'd like to join me?"  
  
She was about to decline when a picture of her empty quarters rose in her mind. "That sounds like a good idea." She followed him off the lift and into the half-filled crew lounge.  
  
He walked over to the servos and looked back at her. "What's your poison?"  
  
She ran through the list of old standbys in her mind. Failed to find one that sounded good. "Surprise me," she instructed.  
  
He smiled dangerously and spoke quietly to the machine. When he turned back to her he was carrying two tall glasses filled with ice and a light brown liquid. He motioned her ahead of him and she chose a table near the windows. Once she was settled he set the glasses down and arranged his bulky frame in the chair.  
  
Christine took a tentative sip of the drink. "Oh my god, this is so good!" She took another sip, bigger this time. "It's like iced coffee only sweeter."  
  
"And a bit more powerful. I'd go easy on that," he warned as she took a larger gulp.  
  
"What is it?" she eyed the now half-empty glass in speculation.  
  
"A Smith and Kerns. Kahlua, cola, and milk over lots of ice. It goes down like a milk shake and generally you will get sick from the sweet before you get drunk on it. Impatient drinkers created the Smith and Wesson for just that reason. An extra shot of vodka increased the potency to an extreme degree."  
  
"I can imagine." She took another sip, realizing she should slow down but unable to stop. "You're sure there isn't any Aldebaran dictshot in this? I usually don't drink this fast."  
  
He laughed. "In my experience, most alcoholic drinks do not in reality taste particularly good. Or if they do it is because we have grown used to them and anticipate the effect they will have. But this drink," he held the glass up, watching the ice swirl through the liquid, "you could feed this drink to a baby and they'd drink it happily." At her mock glare he laughed again. "Not that I would feed it to a baby, of course."  
  
"Of course." She found herself relaxing around him. "So where did you learn about this, Colonel?"  
  
"Perhaps you could call me Randall when we are off duty?" At her nod of agreement he answered, "I was on temporary duty in Seattle. This was a popular drink among the young recruits I was interacting with. I became rather fond of it."  
  
"I'm from Seattle. I don't remember the drink, but I guess the crowd I hung with pretty much stuck to beer. We had a goal to try every microbrew and major label by the time we graduated university."  
  
"An admirable goal, Commander," his grin was devilish.  
  
"Christine," she corrected. "And yes, it was. We almost made it too, but the day of graduation another microbrewery opened near campus. We just didn't have time to run down before commencement." She smiled, lost in the memories.  
  
"So you didn't go to the Academy?"  
  
"No. I joined up later, as a nurse because.well it's a really long story."  
  
"I have plenty of time, Christine." He rose and picked up her glass. "I'm going to have another, do you want one?"  
  
"I shouldn't."  
  
He grinned. "I'll take that as a yes." He was soon back with fresh drinks for both of them. "So why did you join Starfleet?"  
  
"My fiancé disappeared on a mission. Starfleet gave up on him but I never believed he was dead. So I joined Starfleet and managed to get myself posted to a deep exploration ship in the hopes that I might find him."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
She tensed, expecting to feel some lingering pain over Roger, but realized there was none left. "Yes. And no."  
  
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Which?"  
  
"Both. It was Roger, but he had placed his consciousness inside an android body. He seemed to still care for me, but then he did something horrible to Captain Kirk, and I knew he had to be destroyed. I thought the pain would kill me. I thought at the time I'd never get over it. But I did."  
  
He was quiet for a moment. "I didn't realize that you had served with Kirk. The news yesterday must have hit you awfully hard?"  
  
She nodded, unwilling to open up any further.  
  
"If you need to talk about it?" His smile was easy and non-threatening.  
  
"That's nice of you. It really is. But I'd actually prefer," she took a big drink from her glass, "to hear about you. So what makes Randall Kerr tick, hmmm?"  
  
"The normal things.duty, honor, family.  
  
"Where is your family?"  
  
"They are in Calgary. My folks are retired. They were both Starfleet. I have two brothers and a sister--all Starfleet. I never even considered anything else."  
  
"But you went Marines?"  
  
"My little bit of rebellion," he grinned again. "I found myself far more interested in the special forces than in manning a ship. When the chance to switch came up, I jumped at it. And I've never looked back."  
  
"You love it."  
  
"Yes." His eyes met hers. "What about you? What made you stay in Starfleet after you found your fiancé?"  
  
Not what, *who,* she thought wryly. "I guess it was the opportunity. The excitement. Maybe I'd just gotten my space legs and real life would never be the same again? I don't know. But here I am."  
  
"Yes, fortunately for us. You appear to be a fine first officer," he offered. "I've served on many ships over my career. The best ships were the ones where the captain and the first officer had a true rapport. It makes it easier for everyone. And builds confidence. You and Captain Spock appear to have that."  
  
Or we used to. "I hope so. We served together before.on the Enterprise."  
  
He nodded. "I'm sure there isn't a person alive today in the Federation that doesn't know of that legendary friendship. Kirk and Spock. I can't imagine how much the captain is hurting right now."  
  
Christine nodded but said nothing. She saw Kerr's eyes narrow as the mind she was beginning to realize was all too perceptive took in her reticence. She finished off her drink and rose. "Randall, this has been a pleasure. I hope you'll let me return the favor sometime?"  
  
"Let you? I'll insist on it." He rose also. "Christine, if you need someone to talk to. I'm here."  
  
"I'll remember that." She studied his face. His eyes were quietly sincere. Guess I've just made a new friend, she mused as she walked to her cabin and, with the help of coffee liqueur, fell almost instantly asleep.  
  
*******************************  
  
Christine entered the bridge a few minutes before her shift began. She was not surprised to see Spock already seated in his chair. He nodded to her and turned back to studying something on a datapadd. She sat down next to him and watched as the other members of alpha shift reported in. He greeted each of them with the same nod, even turning to say good morning to those seated behind him. Everyone seemed to relax. Everyone but she and Saldusta, who was eyeing Spock speculatively. The other woman pursed her lips, shook her head slightly, then turned her attention to her comms board. I should do the same, thought Christine. But she found herself remembering their meeting in the rose room. His words. His pain. He was a long way from all right.  
  
"Don't you have a staff meeting, Commander?" His tone was gentle but his eyes were still very distant.  
  
She gave him a long look then nodded. Rising quickly she nodded to Kavall, who had already called for a replacement. They rode the lift together down to deck 6.  
  
"You ok?" Kavall asked her.  
  
Christine shot her a practiced smile. "Of course, Nevara. Why wouldn't I be? What about you? Didn't I see you with Dr. Redmoon?"  
  
Kavall blushed. "He's nice. I like him. It's been a long time."  
  
Christine smiled encouragement. "Yes it has been. And you deserve a little happiness, my dear. Just take it slow. It's going to be a long voyage."  
  
"Yes, Mom." The both laughed as they exited the lift.  
  
The conference room was already full. Four pairs of eyes watched her enter. Medical eyes assessing her emotional state, her potential for breakdown. Compassionate gazes, but dangerous in their insight. She looked back at her staff calmly, not rushing to start the meeting. She let Kavall find her seat, took her own at the head of the table, flashed her best *sincere* smile, let it encompass each person there.  
  
"Ok, who wants to be the first to give me a status report?" She watched them accept her words, her behavior. The atmosphere turned all business as her department heads updated her on the readiness of their sections. Christine was pleased at the reports; the only problems were minor. "So we're ready for a mission."  
  
"Any idea where Starfleet will send us first?" Redmoon asked.  
  
"No official word from them. But I think we can narrow down the list to three possibilities. I'm sure you all can guess what they are."  
  
"The canopian plague outbreak on Canara Seltax," Moorehouse suggested.  
  
"The landslides on Omicron Nu?" Farrell looked troubled at just the thought of the devastation they would face there.  
  
Kavall spoke from the other end of the table. "The aftermath of Praxis?" All eyes turned to her. "It *is* logical. Captain Spock was instrumental in the peace effort. Who better to lead the rescue effort?"  
  
Christine shook her head. "It's definitely one of the three possibles, but in my book it is the least likely. The Klingons have been very clear that they will handle their own problems. The peace is too new for them to trust that we wouldn't destroy them if we saw the true state of the Empire. Perhaps in a few years, when they come to understand the Federation better, they will believe in us and in peace?" She shrugged. "If I had to choose I'd say we'll be headed for Omicron Nu, but I guess we'll find out for sure tomorrow when we finish the shakedown exercises."  
  
"Either way we need to get ready for round-the-clock work," Carpenter observed. "The real thing is going to be a far cry from some preprogrammed exercises."  
  
"Agreed," Christine replied. "I've heard all the good things in your previous report. Now, let's get down to the real deal. Tell me what's gone wrong, what you don't like. Let's try to get it fixed now before we enter crisis mode."  
  
There was a natural reticence on the part of her staff to divulge any negatives. Finally Redmoon laughed. "Oh hell, I'll go first. We're getting some anomalous readings on the Cat-VI spinner. We tried to replicate the results but couldn't get them consistently. I'm worried that there's a fault with the programming and I've asked engineering to take a look at it."  
  
"Good. And thanks for going first." She smiled at him, a real smile this time as she found her problems receding as she immersed herself in the work she loved. "Anything else?"  
  
He nodded slowly and began to detail all the little problems he had seen during the shakedown period. Moorehouse, Farrell, Carpenter, and Kavall all had similar things to report. The group together came up with explanations for some of issues, others were recommended to engineering for testing. A few problems were compiled into a formal memo to be sent to Starfleet Medical for review.  
  
Christine looked at the chrono, they'd been at this for an hour. "Ok, then. Unless someone has more to report I suggest we break up this little confab and get back to work." The others nodded in agreement. "I'll let you all know where we're headed as soon as I find out."  
  
***********************  
  
The chime rang into the silence of her office. "Come." She looked up from the padd she was working on.  
  
Farrell smiled at her. "Got a minute?"  
  
"Sure. What's up?"  
  
Instead of sitting down, Farrell went to stand at the shelves holding some of the statues, seemingly lost in her study of them.  
  
"Renata?"  
  
Her friend's voice was very low. "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm sorry for what I said to you the other night. You didn't need that. I don't know what I was thinking." She turned around and Christine could see the guilt on her friend's face.  
  
Shaking her head, she replied quickly, "No. You were right. What you said hurt like hell, but you were right. I had to at least face the possibility of what you were saying. I guess I never really had."  
  
"I should have just supported you. That's what friends do."  
  
Christine laughed softly. "And sometimes friends deliver a good swift kick in the butt. And maybe in the end they're one and the same?"  
  
Farrell nodded slowly, then turned back to the statues.  
  
Christine watched her go from goddess to goddess. "You've never liked him. Why?"  
  
Farrell's shoulders tightened, then eased as she made a visible effort to restrain herself. "You're so special, Chris. You deserve someone who adores you. Someone that shares your wonderful sense of humor, and passion for adventure, and love for life. I just don't see him doing that. I don't see him being worthy of you."  
  
They were silent for a long moment. Christine stared at her friend's back as she thought about her words and the things that were behind them, things so long unspoken. "Are you in love with me?"  
  
"I used to be. For a long time. I got over it." Farrell turned around. Her look was grave. "God, Chris, this isn't one of those *if I can't have you* things. I just don't see him making you happy. End of story."  
  
Christine nodded sadly and surprised herself by agreeing with the other woman. "You may be right, Ren. You may have always been right."  
  
*******************************  
  
It was after her shift and Christine was again wandering the halls. Unwilling to just retire for the night, she roamed from deck to deck, stopping briefly at the mess for dinner, checking out the activity at 3- Forward. Now she was in the medical corridor. What am I doing here, she wondered.  
  
"What are you doing here, Commander?" Redmoon echoed her thought. "Can't sleep?"  
  
"What about you? Your shift should be over too, Doctor?"  
  
He smiled as the door closed behind him, "I was just finishing something up."  
  
"Well I don't want to keep you." she turned to go.  
  
"Commander, I've had quite a lot of experience with grief. It's not good to hold it in." He followed her to the lift. "I'm betting you've been doing just that. And I'm also betting it's a very bad idea. If you need someone to talk to, I'm available."  
  
"I'm ok really, Doctor."  
  
He shook his head, "No, you're not. But until you're ready to talk nobody can force you." He considered something. "Maybe I'm just the wrong person. If you can't talk to me, find someone who isn't so much in your direct chain of command." He smiled as she began to protest, "Oh I know, you're the first officer and technically all of us fall under your command at some point. But you know what I mean."  
  
"I'll take it under advisement, Doctor." She smiled at him as he got off on deck 3. "Good night."  
  
"Good night, Commander."  
  
"Hold the lift," a new voice echoed down the hall. "Ah, Commander, such a pleasure to see you. We've not had the chance to resume our conversation from the reception." His voice oozed.  
  
Redmoon grimaced at her as the doors closed, and Christine almost laughed out loud. "Commander Penhallon."  
  
"Please call me Stephen.Commander." He waited for her to make the same offer.  
  
She refused to rise to the bait. "Most kind, Commander, but I think perhaps we should keep our relationship professional if it's all the same to you."  
  
He didn't miss a beat, "Of course, Commander. So what do you think for our first mission, landslides or plague? And do you think there will be a diplomatic aspect or can I expect to be impressed into bedpan service?" His tone was guileless. He was good; she had to give him that. But then Spock wouldn't have chosen him if he hadn't proven himself to be a diplomat.  
  
She decided to relax around him. "Dunno, Commander. But don't be surprised if I show up bedpan in hand."  
  
They arrived at deck 2 and he got off. "I shall hope that some other duty occurs to you in the meantime. Perhaps swabbing the decks?" He smiled hopefully at her as the door closed.  
  
She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. What now? She replayed Redmoon's words. "Deck 9."  
  
In no time she was walking the hall to Kerr's office. He wasn't there. The lounge maybe. The room was full of marines having a good time. She was greeted by the ones closest to the door. She saw a head turn and she smiled. Making her way to the bar she took the stool that was hurriedly vacated by a young lieutenant. "This seat taken?" she asked without looking at him.  
  
"Only if you're *not* buying," he replied, humor rich in his voice.  
  
"Oh I'm buying. What are you drinking?" She barked his reply and her own request to the young marine acting as bartender. When the drinks came she took a big sip.  
  
"You here for a reason, Christine?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
He didn't say anything else for a few minutes. She busied herself with trying to establish a personal record for downing a highball.  
  
"The East German judge gives you a ten."  
  
She looked at him in confusion. "What?"  
  
He nodded at her now empty drink. "A world record, or at least a quadrant one. For someone who isn't here for a reason you sure do appear to be a woman with something heavy on her mind."  
  
She ordered another. "You're too damn perceptive, Randall." She could feel the alcohol kicking in.  
  
"You say it like it's a bad thing," he smiled gently at her. "What's the deal, Christine?"  
  
"Just enjoying a drink with a friend." She started to reach for the fresh glass but he stopped her by placing his hand over her own.  
  
"Don't. That's not the answer."  
  
"You don't know that." She tried to pull her hand away.  
  
His only tightened over hers. Not in a threatening way, but also not in a way that could be argued with. "Oh, I think I pretty much do." He released her. "But suit yourself."  
  
She pushed the glass away. "You're right. This was a mistake." She rose abruptly and strode rapidly through the group of people pressing against the bar. She made it to the lift before he caught up with her.  
  
"The mistake is running away."  
  
She kept walking.  
  
"Damn it all, Christine." He grabbed her arm and pulled her back down the hall and into his office. Letting her go the minute the door closed he stared at her. "You come down here, obviously looking for me, then you run out. I'm guessing this is not normal behavior for you. Or have I misjudged you?"  
  
"You wouldn't understand."  
  
He walked over to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Sat down and stared at her. "Try me."  
  
She closed her eyes in frustration. A deep sigh escaped from her. "Can't."  
  
"I think you need to." He patted the chair next to him. "Sit. Talk."  
  
She walked slowly over, sank heavily into the chair. "It's all going wrong."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Everything."  
  
"Work? Personal?"  
  
"Both."  
  
He sighed heavily.  
  
She started to rise. "See, I told you."  
  
His hand on her arm stopped her. "Sit down." His tone was gentle but firm.  
  
She sat. "Someone tonight told me that I needed to let my grief out."  
  
"Someone was very wise. Grief can color everything, Christine. Especially if you won't acknowledge it. You can become trapped in it."  
  
Like Spock is, she thought. "I know. A friend of mine is doing just that."  
  
"That's your friend's choice. Maybe you can help and maybe you can't. But I'm not concerned with your friend. I'm worried about you."  
  
"But the thing with my friend is the problem."  
  
"Yes, I'm sure that the Captain's grief," at her startled look he shot her a small smile, "yes I saw through your clever ruse. I'm sure that the Captain's pain has changed both your working and personal relationship. And it will be hard to figure out how to redefine the way you work together if you lose the rapport that you obviously enjoyed with one another. But soon we will be on our first mission and you will be busy and the relationship will not be as all critical as it appears at this moment." At her look of skepticism he held up his hands, "I speak from experience, Christine. What will matter is how you are, how emotionally and spiritually well you are. And if you let this eat away at you, you won't be ready, you won't be able to give what the crew needs from you."  
  
"So what do I do?"  
  
"You talk. To me. About your pain. We can start with losing Kirk. Or with the betrayal I imagine you feel from the Captain, it always hurts when those we care for refuse our comfort."  
  
"I think we should stick to the first one."  
  
He smiled at her. "Very well. What's the bravest thing you ever saw Kirk do? What about the stupidest, or the funniest?"  
  
She looked at him in confusion.  
  
"It helps to talk about him. Make him real. Make his death real. Not just something you pay lip service to. It's what we do when we lose a marine. Only there is usually copious amounts of alcohol involved." He grinned at her.  
  
She found herself grinning back. "No more alcohol." When he nodded agreement she started to laugh, "Ok, the stupidest thing? It was time for the annual crew physicals and Kirk was notorious for doing anything to avoid them." She watched his face as she told him the story, laughter causing it to turn red and form little lines over his nose. He turned even redder when she told him about the roast Kirk had once hosted for McCoy. When she went on with the bravest incident she could remember he nodded thoughtfully. Soon the memories were coming freely and she found herself reliving more times with her old Captain, with Spock and McCoy and the others. By the time she wound down tears were falling freely and he had taken her hand in his.  
  
He said nothing for a long time, just watched her cry. When she finally looked back at him, a tender smile suffused his face. "Better?"  
  
She nodded as she sniffed. "Yes. Thank you."  
  
"You can always come to me, Christine. Always." He reached over and brushed the last of the tears away. "Now why don't you see if you can wipe the floor with me at pool. Munro told me not even to think about challenging you if I valued my pride."  
  
She tried for a cocky smile, achieved only a small grin but felt good about that. "Obviously you don't value it."  
  
"We'll just see about that won't we?"  
  
She let him lead her back to the lounge and rack up the balls. She did, indeed, wipe the floor with him. And he seemed to enjoy the experience. After about a dozen games of nine ball she started to feel more like her old self. With some reluctance she left him at the lounge and headed back to her room for some much-needed rest.  
  
*******************************  
  
Christine expected to see Spock in his chair when she arrived on the bridge but Sabuti was sitting in it.  
  
She rose but did not move to release command. "Sir, Captain Spock asked that you join him in his ready room when you arrived."  
  
"Very good, Sabuti. As you were." Christine took the few steps back up to the door of Spock's office. She rang the chime and heard him say "Enter." He was sitting at his desk, already engaged in conversation with someone. When he motioned her around, she found a place behind his chair where she could see and be seen.  
  
"Ah, Commander, glad you could join us." Admiral Nogura's face was serious.  
  
Christine tried to fight the annoyance she felt with Spock for going forward without her there. She wasn't late. Would he have waited, she wondered. Would he have waited for her if Jim weren't dead? She fought off the distraction, focusing completely on the admiral. "Sir."  
  
"I was just telling Captain Spock that your first mission will be the outbreak on Canara Seltax. You're to make best speed there. I'm having Starfleet Medical transmit everything we have on the disease. It isn't much though."  
  
"Sir, I don't understand. We have plenty of information already on the Canopian Plague?"  
  
Nogura sighed. "This is a bit out of my depth. Captain Harris thought you might want a little more of an explanation. I guess I should listen to my head of medical." He grinned somewhat sheepishly then picked up a pad. "Here's what he told me to tell you: CP no longer thought to be involved. Pulmonary incidents are present in beginning stages but 88 percent of those affected are succumbing to hemorrhagic phase. Does that make sense to you, Commander?"  
  
Christine nodded slowly. "CP isn't hemorrhagic. This must be something new, or perhaps one of the old viral hemorrhagic fevers that has mutated." She looked back at the Admiral, something akin to resentment in her eyes. "Nothing like giving us our hardest assignment first, Sir."  
  
Nogura's disapproval was evident. "Sorry I couldn't deliver a planetwide epidemic of the common cold, or perhaps athlete's foot?"  
  
She ignored his sarcasm. "Have you ever seen VHF, Sir?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Pray that you don't. It's horrifying." And with that she walked out of the screen's view and toward the door.  
  
"Commander?" Nogura's voice was startled.  
  
She noticed Spock did not try to stop her. As she turned back to the screen, their eyes met. His were not angry, in fact they were not anything. Can't worry about that now, she thought firmly.  
  
"Sir," she addressed both of them. "I have a staff that needs to be notified, we have biosafety containment measures to erect here and to come up with for a whole planet. I need that data from Medical sooner rather than later so that we can assess the scope of the outbreak. And I'm going to run out of time if I sit around here shooting the shit. Unless I miss my guess, we're already on course to Canara Seltax?"  
  
"We are," Spock confirmed.  
  
So much for teamwork, she thought bitterly. Randall had been right though; in light of a VHF outbreak how she was working with Spock hardly mattered. When she realized her superior officers were finished with her she turned on her heel and left.  
  
*******************************  
  
"Ok, what do we know?" Christine looked at her staff. She had wasted no time as she left Spock's ready room, telling the computer to call the medical heads and their principals together and instructing Kavall to arrange for a replacement indefinitely. Now they sat in the conference room somewhat incredulous as they finished listening to the report from Starfleet Medical.  
  
Moorehouse was the first to speak. "We don't know much that's for sure." When the others turned to her she nodded thoughtfully. "I think the first thing we have to do is not panic. It's a hemorrhagic. But we can deal with that."  
  
"It's scary," one of the lab doctors muttered. "A medical bogeyman."  
  
"It is," Moorehouse agreed. "And I'm not trying to say we won't have to be careful. This monster under the bed is very real. But we can beat this. Support, containment, and proper burial is key."  
  
A new voice chimed in. "That could be a problem." All eyes turned to the doorway where Lt. Commander Troi stood. He pursed his lips before continuing. "Canara is the least advanced world in the Seltax Confederation. It is ruled jointly by a political and a religious figure. The minister does all he can to keep Canara up with it's neighbors technologically, but he is hamstrung by the rituals, mores, and taboos enforced by the High Priest and his followers."  
  
"I've asked Commander Troi here to give us the cultural context of this epidemic," Christine explained. "Thank you for coming at such short notice."  
  
He smiled tightly at her. "On the contrary, I'm glad to be of service. I think you very much need to hear what I have to say." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "The problems are multiple. I've studied the reports from Starfleet Medical and I see some other potential problems that will arise as you try to deal with this crisis." He spoke to the computer and some holostills appeared on the wall screen. "This is the High Priest. He is considered the living embodiment of the Canaran deity Kormox. As such, he is considered invincible, omnipotent even. His touch is blessing, his kiss is healing."  
  
"Not in this environment," Moorehouse countered.  
  
"Exactly," Christine replied. We need to be on the lookout for him once we set up our containment area. Eventually he'll show up.  
  
Carpenter frowned at the picture. "But surely when Canarans get sick he doesn't try to heal every one of them?"  
  
"They don't tend to get sick. At least not till now." Troi advanced the holo to a shot of a group of people all apparently in stunning good health. "There are few doctors and even fewer hospitals on this planet. Very few natural causes of sickness apparently."  
  
Redmoon looked intrigued. "Or else their immune systems are strong enough to fight anything off."  
  
"I leave that to you medical folk to determine. Whatever the reason, Canarans rarely get sick. Period. So there is little preparation for a medical disaster of this nature."  
  
Christine tore her eyes away from the Canarans. "So we can expect resistance. But how much?"  
  
"A lot, I imagine. Not just to your treatments. Their funerary rituals are quite fixed. The closest family members first bathe the body then sit watch for a day and a half."  
  
"No. We can't have that." Moorehouse looked aghast. "The potential spread of disease. We have to stop that. We just won't release the bodies till we are sure they understand the proper procedure."  
  
"Be careful how you do that, Doctor." Troi looked grim as he continued, "If the Canarans think that they will not get back the bodies of their loved ones, they will stop bringing them in for treatment. Respect for their dead is ingrained throughout the Canaran religion."  
  
"Commander Troi is a valuable resource for us. Feel free to ask him whatever you need to." Christine sat down as her staff peppered the diplomat with questions. Finally when they wound down she turned to him. "Thank you for coming. You're welcome to stay if you like, but I think you might find it all a bit technical."  
  
"I agree, Commander. Although from what Commander Penhallon indicated we might be back working on corpsman duties? He wanted me to tell you that he actually was serious about helping, as are others in the staff, although perhaps bedpan duty is not what we had in mind."  
  
Moorehouse snorted, but not in amusement. "Bedpan duty, in this case, will be one of the most hazardous duties you can pull. I think you can consider yourself safe from that."  
  
Christine waited till the door closed behind him before continuing. "We know this won't be easy. Let's try to figure out what has happened here. A normally healthy populace is suddenly stricken with this epidemic. It doesn't make sense. Ideas?"  
  
"Maybe it was brought in accidentally by someone who has been off world?"  
  
"Have they done any new exploration? Could it have lain dormant in a jungle environment."  
  
"Biological warfare is a possibility. Do they have any major enemies or native insurgent groups?"  
  
Christine nodded at each answer. "Starfleet Medical has checked into all those. None checked out. So far the viral reservoir is unknown. One of our main jobs is to sort out the dead and the order in which they succumbed. If we can find the index case, we can start tracking the virus back."  
  
"In theory." Moorehouse looked grim. "No one has ever successfully tracked down where Ebola lurks, and we've been searching for that reservoir for 300 years."  
  
Christine nodded. "I know. But we're not dealing with Ebola. In fact, this could be worse. It has nearly the mortality rate of Ebola but it is slower moving, which is giving the virus more time to spread. We need to get containment laid down and fast."  
  
Kavall spoke up for the first time. "Why isn't it there already? Starfleet Medical has all this info, why didn't their doctors set one up?"  
  
"There were only a small number of them. They thought it was CP. Started out the same way. Fever, headache, muscle pain."  
  
"That could be any number of ailments." Carpenter's voice was defensive of her colleagues.  
  
"Exactly." Christine's voice dropped as she continued. "Once they figured it out, it was too late. They had been careful, but not careful enough. They're all dead."  
  
"All of them?" Kavall's voice was stunned, and a bit shamed.  
  
"All of them." Christine looked at each member of the table. "And that, ladies and gentleman, should tell us exactly what we're up against here."  
  
Nobody said anything, in fact no one even moved.  
  
"You heard Commander Troi. You've seen the report. We're going to reconvene here in three hours. I want you to bring every idea you have on containment, patient support, diagnostic tests, possible vaccines, and tracking down the virus itself. We don't have much time. We'll make orbit in 36 hours." She looked at the faces, some already thinking, others clearly scared. "Call in everyone you need to from your shifts. We'll rearrange later. Anyone that might have an idea should be included. Any questions? Then go."  
  
A minute later she stood in a deserted conference room. Burying her head in her hands she took several deep breaths and tried to send the dreadful tension she was experiencing away. Feeling unsuccessful, she raised her head and was surprised to see Spock standing in the doorway.  
  
He moved forward and the door closed behind him. "I was unfamiliar with hemorrhagic fever. Other than as a theoretical. Since you left my office I have done some research."  
  
"It is horrible."  
  
"So I have seen in the files. But you have experience with it first hand, don't you?"  
  
She nodded slowly, trying to block out the sight of the young man lying on the stretcher in the adhoc containment area they had set up. The rash covering his skin, blood coming from his mouth, his nose, other places. "It was during my medical studies. We flew to the Amazon to meet with some doctors biotyping indigenous flora for mass production. A surveyor stumbled into camp. He had been in the jungle. Never had his innoculation. It was only Yellow Fever. If he hadn't been lost because of the fever, he might have made it to us in time. We were just too late." She closed her eyes tightly. "For years I've tried to push that memory so far away. Now I think I'll get to replace it with brand new ones. Much worse."  
  
"This time you might have a chance to make a difference. You might save lives." His voice was very low.  
  
"Yeah." She turned away. Started pushing in the chairs. "Maybe."  
  
"Christine."  
  
She stopped but did not look up at him. "Yes?"  
  
"You will do fine."  
  
"What if I don't? What if I'm not cut out for this?" She felt her own anxieties batter at her and looked up to meet his eyes. Eyes that were no longer quite so cold.  
  
"You are. I know it."  
  
"If you say so, Captain."  
  
"Spock," he corrected gently.  
  
"Spock," she repeated quietly.  
  
"I will leave you. I know there is much to prepare. If diplomatic can be of assistance do not hesitate to take whatever or whomever you need."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He nodded and turned, walking out of the room without a backward glass.  
  
She stared at the door and whispered again, "Thank you."  
  
*******************************  
  
Christine ended the Starfleet Medical report and sat back. She had watched it five times now. Each time trying to hear more, see more, than was really on the file. She looked at the chrono. Two hours before her staff would reconvene. She needed to see if there was any new info in the Medical databases on containment of biosafety level four diseases. But before she did that there was one more place she needed to go. And she didn't want any of her doctors with her when she did it. Rising she exited her office and left the bridge. The lift deposited her on deck 9. A few seconds later she rang Kerr's door chime.  
  
"Come." He looked up as she entered. "Commander, I've been expecting you." At her look of surprise he laughed. "I've been boning up on VHF outbreaks. Notice my effortless mastery of the lingo."  
  
She smiled in spite of her own sense of urgency.  
  
He smiled back. "I'm guessing you came down to talk about security."  
  
She sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk. "We're going to need it. But it's a dicey job. Have you ever worked in a containment environment."  
  
He shook his head. "Fill me in. My marines are yours, you know that."  
  
"I know. It's good to hear though. Here's the deal. The first thing is there is going to be blood. A lot of blood. I need men and women on guard that can deal with that."  
  
"Ok. That'll be my first criteria."  
  
"Good. You'll need to schedule them in three-hour shifts. No more than that or they will get too fatigued. Fatigue equals mistakes. And a mistake in this environment can be fatal."  
  
"Understood."  
  
"They are there to keep the patients in and the healthy people, usually friends and relatives, out."  
  
"Sounds simple enough."  
  
"It isn't. There's more. They have to spend just as much time watching the health staff. With these diseases the danger to medical personnel is generally due to mishaps during support. A rip to the biosuit can expose doctors and nurses to contaminated blood, feces, even air. And the thing is even though these health professionals know better than anyone the risk of hiding an accidental tear they will still try. They'll be operating on panic and fear and your marines will need to watch for it."  
  
"What happens if they see it."  
  
"Then the team member goes into the watch area of the containment set up. They most definitely do *not* leave the quarantine area or beam back up to the ship. And they can't be subdued by hand because of the danger to the other suits. Phasers on stun is the best way to handle this. Can your marines fire on their fellow crewmembers?"  
  
He nodded. "When they understand that it will be to save the rest of the crew I don't think they will have a problem with it. Any that do can pull other duty for the duration."  
  
"Good. I won't lie to you, Randall. This may well be the most grisly duty they ever perform. I sent you some footage from several outbreaks. It's very graphic. It should help to wean out those that can't take it from those that can."  
  
"I'll watch it myself first," at her puzzled glance he grinned, "just to be sure that I can take it. Would really not do to faint in front of the troops."  
  
She found herself grinning again. "No, I guess it wouldn't." She rose. "I've got more work to do. Thank you for your help."  
  
"I'm always here for you, Christine. Professionally and personally."  
  
"And I appreciate that." She walked to the door, then turned around again. "We'll need the first team down on the planet with us when we do the initial assessment. There's no containment field yet so I want them to requisition ventilators, masks, and gloves. They should wear the standard hazard uniform and tell them to make sure the arms, legs, and neck are sealed properly before reporting. Once we get going they'll be in biosafety suits but until then this should provide the proper protection."  
  
"I assume you'll be wearing the same," he teased.  
  
"No, I thought I'd beam down in a bikini."  
  
He laughed. "While perhaps an engaging sight, that would hardly be a smart thing to do."  
  
"Sure steal my fun." She grinned at him again. "I've got to go, Randall."  
  
"Go." He smiled and waved her out the door.  
  
*******************************  
  
"The challenge of managing patients with VHF is to provide the highest quality of care with the least risk of transmitting infection." Moorehouse said as she looked at the assembled group. "I worked once on an outbreak on Forman's Planet. We were initially appalled because the local medical staff were not using biosuits. They had found that barrier nursing, infection control techniques, isolation of the patients, and proper disposal of contaminated material made the suits unnecessary. I can't say that any of us were comfortable with that idea and we didn't choose to abandon the biosuits." She paused for a second. "But no one on the local team got sick so maybe they were right."  
  
Farrell sounded horrified. "You want us to go down there unprotected?"  
  
"Not at first. I think the suits will be useful for the initial containment and until we see just how infectious this is. Most VHFs are not spread by aerosol methods but this one could be. That is one thing the Starfleet Medical team did not have time to find out. We'll know more once we're down there."  
  
Carpenter looked skeptical. "So you're saying we might be working without a suit?"  
  
"Have you ever worked in one of those suits?" Redmoon challenged her. "They are cumbersome and completely impersonal for the patient. Not to mention damned uncomfortable, the sweat factor alone makes it tough to stay in one for too long. If the medical staff can downgrade to respirator, and protective eyewear and clothing you will be much more comfortable and probably efficient in the long run."  
  
Surprised at his answer, Christine replied, "Do you plan to downgrade?"  
  
"Well if we are isolating the virus we really can't. But if we are testing for antibodies then yes, we will downgrade. The containment features in the lab are excellent and I plan to have only the most experienced personnel working with me. The rest will be working on production of virus inhibitor medicine once we get the signature down or on other therapeutic measures in conjunction with Dr. Moorehouse's people." Redmoon looked around the table. "I've worked with VHF samples many times. Yes they have the potential to kill. They have killed. But that was back in the day of sharps primarily. Or with careless people who let aerosol form during autopsy or were splashed by samples or fluids. With mask, eyewear, respirator, non-rip gloves and a lick of common sense we should be fine."  
  
"Well it sounds like you are ready." Christine turned back to Moorehouse, "What can we do for you?"  
  
The other woman glanced down at her pad. "My initial goals are simple. One - Contain the patients currently exhibiting symptoms. Two - Determine the virus. Three - Watch for new patients, targeting specifically those we know have had contact with those who have been infected. Four - find the vector for this disease."  
  
Farrell looked up from where she had been taking notes. "Disaster relief can help with three and four. We can try to trace back the patients to arrive at those first infected, look for some commonalities. And in the process hopefully find anyone that has had close or high risk contact with those infected."  
  
Carpenter nodded. "That would be helpful. We're going to have our hands too full with patient support to monitor all contacts on a daily basis."  
  
"What can I do?" All heads turned to Kavall.  
  
Moorehouse replied quickly, "Nothing yet. But once we get down there I'm sure we'll think of plenty of things."  
  
"Science stands ready to help any way we can."  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Christine looked around the table. "Well let's get down to the weeds, shall we." She turned to Redmoon, "I'm assuming you'll be getting blood samples delivered via transporter?"  
  
"Yes, using our dedicated transporter, which has enhanced microbial and viral screens built in as well as redundant safety measures, and implementing proper containment procedures from the planet the risk should be at an acceptable level."  
  
"Good. What about the containment area itself? How are we setting that up?"  
  
Moorehouse rose and instructed the computer to display the schematic she had created. "It's a fairly straightforward isolation ward. We have all the materials in ships stores. Let me walk you through it."  
  
The schematic disappeared to be replaced by a virtual model of the area. The show started as if the viewer were walking toward the building. "The poles you see staggered around the perimeters are fitted with sensors that will continually test the immediate environs to make sure that we are keeping the disease inside." The camera panned up to the entranceway. "There are two main ways inside. The one for the staff is on the right. You walk though a decon-field into a vestibule, then through a second field into the changing and showers area, through a third decon -field into the second entranceway, which is for the patients then through a fourth field to the main ward. We wanted a separate entrance that stretchers could be handed through so that patients would not be contaminating the staff entrances. No one goes out through this entrance, in fact it is programmed to stop anyone from exiting that way."  
  
Farrell was frowning at the screen. "How do you get the bodies out?"  
  
"Very carefully," Redmoon muttered. When Christine glared at him he just smiled. "I'm actually not kidding. That and getting samples out are the two areas with the most potential to compromise the entire system."  
  
Moorehouse nodded agreement. "He's right. The bodies will be double- wrapped and deconned within the ward. Then they'll be doused in the fields as we pass them back out through the patient entrance. The field will allow wrong way transport of samples or corpses provided they are wrapped in the proper containment material. Anything with a pulse stays in or goes out through the changing rooms."  
  
"What about security?" Kavall asked.  
  
"I've already talked to Colonel Kerr about that," Christine explained. "The marines are ready to help as soon as we decide where to place them. We'll also have them on our other teams."  
  
"Good," Moorehouse shifted the view to a long shot. "I want guards stationed at the entrance and behind the building as well, the perimeter has to be secure. We also need some inside, but they are going to have to be in biosuits."  
  
Christine nodded. "They understand that."  
  
"Good." Moorehouse walked them through the entrance procedures then the camera panned into the main ward area. The huge room was filled with beds. Every surface inside was rounded off or soft. "We can't afford any sharp edges in here, especially not while we are still in the biosuits. Anybody gets a rip they have to stay inside." She looked around fiercely. "That may sound harsh but I'm serious. Nobody that is exposed to this gets outside. Nobody."  
  
Subdued nods and murmurs answered her. Christine was glad to see she and the other doctor were on the same wavelength.  
  
The entire structure is maintained at negative pressure to keep microbes inside. The main ward area can be fielded off to separate the most extreme cases from those in the initial stages. Not everyone that is brought in with a fever is going to have VHF, to put them in the critical care ward before they show symptoms would be criminal. We're also going to have a few of the first cases that are nearly recovered. We will be moving them into a third area once they no longer need active support."  
  
"When do they go home?" one of the nurses asked.  
  
"Standard release criteria, cessation of symptoms, normal temperature, ability to urinate and evacuate bowels without assistance. All patients, especially males, must be warned to abstain from sex for a month as the disease typically remains infectious for about two weeks in semen and possibly other sexual secretions."  
  
She looked back to the screen. A small room off the main ward came into focus. "This is the meds room. And that is the whole shebang. I'm keeping it simple because we don't need anything more complex."  
  
One of the sickbay doctors spoke up, "Where do we sit down?"  
  
"We don't." At the collective groans she held up her hands. "Your shift inside will be a maximum of 2 hours. Then you get a long break. Long enough to eat, nap, walk, do whatever you need to. Then you get 2 hours on again with another break then a final 2 hours. Then you are off for the next 16 hours. We're running a lot of shifts to allow us to do this but it is absolutely crucial to limit people's times inside the area and the suits. *If* we decide to downgrade to barrier nursing the shifts inside will be lengthened but not by much, we still cannot afford for people to get careless through exhaustion."  
  
Moorehouse returned to her seat as the screen went dark. "Let me remind you that the patients will vary from nearly asymptomatic to those in the most advances stages of crash. And some of them will be very agitated so you must be prepared to sedate any who become violent." She was quiet for a moment then looked around the table seeming to rest her eyes on each person. "You think you know now what you and your staff are capable of. You don't have a clue. You may find that the ones you thought you could most count on will crack under the strain while those you wouldn't have thought could muster through a common cold will be the ones you lean on most. Be flexible, be reasonable, and try not to lose your humanity as you are forced to bury the compassion you feel for these people."  
  
Christine watched as the others took in Moorehouse's final words. Finally she spoke into the silence, "We'll be there in roughly 30 hours. Commander Moorehouse will lead the team erecting the containment area. Commander Carpenter will start arranging transport for VHF patients from the regular hospital. Commander Farrell and I will begin to track down the disease. Dr. Redmoon will run final diagnostics with engineering on the transporter and the containment fields in the lab to ensure that we are really as protected as we think we are. I'll notify Colonel Kerr to have the first marine contingent standing by." She took a deep breath, trying to think of anything she might have forgotten. "In the meantime, I suggest you have a great meal and get a good night's sleep. It may be the last you have of either for a very long while."  
  
*******************************  
  
Christine took the lift to the back entrance of the bridge offices. She was too tired to answer questions from the bridge crew and didn't feel like disrupting their shift when she was only coming in for a few minutes to report to Spock. She had called as soon as the meeting ended and asked to update him when it was convenient.  
  
"I am here now," had been his answer.  
  
And now so was she. She rang the chime and heard his low, "Come."  
  
He looked up as she came in, motioned her to sit in one of his chairs. "Everything is prepared?"  
  
"Looks like. I'm very pleased with the way Medical is coming together. They will be quite a crew."  
  
"You chose well." He looked down at his pad. "Will you be needing Lieutenant Kavall? I have several projects I'd like to start while we are here."  
  
"I don't think we'll need her right away, so if you do I think she'll welcome the chance to be busy."  
  
"Good. Now perhaps you will fill me in on the specifics?"  
  
She nodded and explained what had transpired in the meeting pulling up Moorehouse's visuals to show him the proposed layout.  
  
"Everything does indeed seem well in hand. I expected no differently with you in charge." He looked down at his pad, then seemed to force his eyes back up to hers. "You are feeling better? More confident than when we last spoke?"  
  
She nodded then looked away. Why was this so hard?  
  
"I am glad." There was an awkward silence and finally Christine got up to leave.  
  
"Unless you need something else, I really need to get some dinner." She waited for him to see the invitation in that statement. The old Spock would have. This Spock did not, or at least did not acknowledge it.  
  
"I need nothing else."  
  
Again she nodded and turned to leave.  
  
His voice surprised her. " Will you be eating with someone?" His tone was perfectly even.  
  
Suddenly anger overwhelmed her. She fought to keep it down as she answered him in falsely breezy tones. "You bet, Spock. You know me. The life of the party." She did not turn to look at him as she waited for his reply.  
  
When it came his voice seemed tinged with regret. "I should not have asked. I am not even certain why I did. Forgive me."  
  
"It's forgotten. Goodnight, Spock." She did not wait to hear his response but fled from the tension that filled the room.  
  
******************  
  
As she stood in line in the mess Christine fumed inwardly. She was tired, she was worried, now she was confused. She just wanted to take her food and get back to her room, if only this line for the replicator would move.  
  
A voice in her ear caused her to jump, "Are you planning to eat with someone?"  
  
She smiled. "I think it's a moot point. Maybe there really are no replicators. This is really just a psych experiment to see how long we'll stand around like sheep."  
  
Kerr laughed and eased into line behind her. "We could lead a rebellion? Forks on the trays, chanting 'Food now, food now' if you like?"  
  
At his silliness, she felt her spirits start to lift. "Better yet we could threaten to string up the chef if he doesn't get a move on."  
  
"I think that would be the engineer. Unless you really believe that there are little tiny cooks inside the replicator."  
  
She punched his arm playfully. "Shut up. I thought there were, you know, for years."  
  
"Me too." He tried to see the front of the line. "What is the damn hold up?" He turned back to her. Gave her one of the assessing looks she was becoming accustomed to from him. "Long day."  
  
"Very. I was going to take this back to my quarters."  
  
"But then what will I do?"  
  
She looked at his endearing grin, his earnest eyes. "You could come with me. I bet you've been dying to see what you gave up by refusing quarters on the senior deck."  
  
"I can't regret being closer to my troops. But I would like to see your digs. If you really want me there? I know you must be tired."  
  
She put down her tray, grabbed his and put it down too. "Come on."  
  
"What about dinner?" he laughed as she pulled him out of the mess hall. "This is all so sudden, Christine," he said in a mock soprano voice.  
  
She glared at him. "Oh get your head out of the gutter. I just remembered that I have a replicator in my quarters. I'm still getting used to that fact but I must really be tired to have forgotten for this long."  
  
"You have a replicator in your *room?*" He sounded very wistful.  
  
"As you would have too if you'd stayed on our level." They entered the lift and rode it up to deck 2. She led him to her quarters and gestured him in. "So what's your pleasure."  
  
He gave her a suggestive leer.  
  
She just laughed. "Food?" she said sternly.  
  
"Whatever you're having."  
  
"I was going to have Aldeberan slime worms covered in sweet potato gravy."  
  
Ever the marine he nodded stoically, "Yum. Sounds great."  
  
"You are so disturbed," she chuckled as she ordered them both some pasta and salads. "Pesto ok?"  
  
"Pesto's great. Lots of Parmesan cheese."  
  
She added that to the order. "And to drink?"  
  
"I'm good with water."  
  
She requested a bottle of spring water and carried the meal to the table.  
  
"Quite the cook. This is great. But I don't know.those slime worms were sounding pretty tasty."  
  
She just shook her head as they dug in. She was hungrier than she realized. Finally she pushed the plate away and looked up to find him watching her, his dish long since emptied. "What?"  
  
"I'm just getting to know you."  
  
"By staring at me?"  
  
He nodded. "You can find out a lot about a person just by watching them. How expressions play across their face, whether they hold stuff in or let it move freely. How they enjoy food."  
  
"I like to eat," she said defensively.  
  
"And that's a very good thing." He grinned at her. "You're holding something in though. Something that I think hurts."  
  
"There's a lot going on, Randall."  
  
"Ok." He carried their dishes to the recycler. "Will you split a tiramisu with me?"  
  
"Yes," she said without hesitation.  
  
"See that's why I like you. No 'oh I shouldn't, my waistline, blah blah blah', just a simple 'yes.' You're not afraid to do what you like."  
  
"Or I'm just a pig," she laughed.  
  
"Well that is the other possibility," he said with a grin when he carried the dessert back. They ate it slowly, talking about anything but the upcoming mission. Finally, the dessert obliterated, Kerr rose. "I'm going to let you get some rest now. Don't imagine you'll be doing much of that when this thing starts."  
  
She walked him to the door, stood in it as he turned to look at her. He touched her face gently for a moment before thanking her for dinner. He was just dropping his hand when Spock rounded the corner.  
  
"Captain, good evening." Kerr's voice was casual.  
  
"Captain Spock," Christine knew her own voice sounded guilty.  
  
"Colonel, Commander, good evening." His tone was even but his face as he looked at Christine seemed just a bit tighter than usual. He made his way to his own quarters and quickly disappeared inside.  
  
Christine stared after him.  
  
Kerr touched her shoulder, grinning like a first year cadet. "Nothing like getting caught by the principal, eh?"  
  
She didn't smile. "He's been through a lot."  
  
The grin faded. "Did I say he hadn't?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean."  
  
Kerr leaned in and spoke intently. "I know what you meant. I see a lot, Christine. More than you probably want me to. I can tell what's going on. And the way I see it, a man could lose something he values if he doesn't start fighting for it."  
  
"It's not like that."  
  
"Then he won't mind me hanging around will he?"  
  
She grimaced. "You twists thing almost as well as a Vulcan."  
  
"I'll take that as a compliment, ma'am. I mean Sir." His grin was back big as ever.  
  
"Go to bed, Randall."  
  
"Good night, Christine."  
  
Forward to Part 2 


	2. Part 2

Unto Space We Commend Thy Spirit by Djinn (CARTER #3)  
  
Part 2  
  
*******************************  
  
Christine watched with satisfaction as the isolation area was raised. The walls were set up first, fixed in place easily as the corpsmen moved the gravlocks into the secure position. Then the crews went to work on the decon fields.  
  
Carpenter joined her on the grass. Her face was difficult to see through the respirator. She pointed at the men working. "I need to borrow them when they're through here. I want to put in an examination room, and a waiting area for those we think might be infected. Someplace they can come that we can still control." She glanced around at the large town that began at the edge of the field. "I don't want to set up shop there."  
  
"No problem." Christine motioned the ranking medic over and instructed him to report to the other doctor when his crew was done with the isolation area. As he walked away she turned back to Carpenter. Pointing to the people already starting to congregate at the guarded barrier that they had erected at the field's edge she grimaced. "I can't believe they are doing that. One infected person in there and they could all come down with it."  
  
"I know, Commander. I'm appalled too. But they may not be affected."  
  
Christine nodded. "We'll know more when Commander Farrell and I start the surveys. The Minister's office is supposed to be bringing by a list of all the Canarans that have died. Once we have that we can start tracking down the possible infected members."  
  
The beep of Christine's communicator caught their attention. The transporter chief announced that Moorehouse was beaming down with Sovar. They waited till the two had fully materialized before walking over to them.  
  
"Commander Moorehouse, I imagine you want to inspect your facility?"  
  
"Yes." Moorehouse strode off, already calling out to the medics to make adjustments to the field.  
  
Christine turned to Sovar. "I'm a bit surprised to see you down here."  
  
The young Vulcan nodded somberly. "I have been talking with others in the diplomatic section. We wish to help. But we know that caring for the sick is perhaps not the best way to do this. I have come to find out how we can assist your team."  
  
Christine thought for a moment. She couldn't have them in the hot area. But the surveys were intensive and tedious. The more hands on those the better. "Thank you for the offer. I do intend to take you up on it but it may be a few days before we need you. We plan to conduct surveys in the town and surrounding smaller populated areas. But first we need to map the extent of the virus' reach. Once we do that we can demarcate the active zone from the safe areas, and safe is a relative turn, even they may not be totally free of illness. We will need you to conduct surveys, look for indigenous wildlife as well as domesticated companion animals for sampling. As soon as we have completed our contagion map we will call you down."  
  
Sovar seemed satisfied with her plan. "An efficient use of our skills."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Sovar. Now please, get back up to the ship, this area will soon be ground zero."  
  
He did not argue and after he had beamed up she and Carpenter turned back to watch the final touches of the building go up. Moorehouse was in the thick of the construction and Christine chuckled as she watched the other woman. "Come on," she said to Carpenter, "let's go see if she needs help."  
  
They walked slowly, still getting used to the tight fitting hazard uniforms. Christine could already feel a blister forming around her right ankle where her boot was pressing the tight pant leg into her skin. If all I get is a blister out of this I'll be damned lucky, she thought as she tried to ignore the rubbing.  
  
Moorehouse looked up as the other doctors approached. "It's solid, Commander. Containment is perfect according to my readings. I'm going to check a couple other different ways but I think we're a go. I'll have the beds, supplies, and medicines beamed down while the crew construct the decon showers and set up the suits. Then we'll be ready for customers."  
  
Christine smiled at her enthusiasm. Moorehouse was a seasoned professional, this was no callow show of good spirits, she was truly looking forward to the challenge of beating back another disease, of saving some, maybe many, lives. Christine again felt a surge of respect flow through her for the woman.  
  
Carpenter explained her plans to set up an examination area and Moorehouse expressed approval, even had some suggestions for making it work better. Christine left the two designing the waiting room and walked over to the barrier.  
  
The guards, already very alert, snapped to attention. "Sir."  
  
"At ease," she said immediately. "Have any of the citizens tried to get in."  
  
"No, Sir." One of the marines, an older woman that Christine remembered as Sergeant Mandra, explained, "They have stayed well back from the barrier. They seem more curious than anything else. Several of the children asked about our respirators."  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"That it was to help us stay well, that we weren't used to their air."  
  
"Close enough. Don't need a panic. And this thing may not be airborne. Until we know for sure though, I want you in respirators whenever you stand duty on the planet. Understood."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
Taking a last look at the villagers, some of whom had brought picnic lunches out to eat as they watched the activity, Christine walked back to the main camp. She picked a place off to the side for the spot she would have the crew erect her office. Not just hers, she imagined others would find it useful also. Then she took out her tricorder and setting it on broad scan she searched the area for fauna. In rodents alone, one of the most likely animal vectors, she counted eight varieties in the fields and wooded areas, three in the urban area, and three flying ones. Insects were incredibly numerous as well. There were companion animals similar to cats, a wild creature somewhere between a dog and a fox, several large livestock animals, and numerous birds, reptiles, and fish. She scanned again. Interesting. No non-human primates.  
  
She opened her communicator, heard Saldusta respond. "Yes, Commander?"  
  
"Is Lt. Kavall there?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," the science officer answered.  
  
"Lieutenant, could you run a planet-wide scan. Categorize all fauna by genus and species--you may have to cross-reference against the Ministry's databanks--and give an earth equivalent if possible. Send me the data once you have it."  
  
"Yes, Sir. Anything else?"  
  
"No. Chapel out." She turned back to her scans. She would wait to see what Kavall's scans showed but at this point she thought the rodents were the most likely host of the virus. Perhaps one of these varieties was new to the area. It was as good if not better a theory than any of the others she had heard. Whatever caused this disease was an interloper. The Ministry said that they had no record of a similar epidemic, or even isolated cases, ever taking place.  
  
She heard several voices and turned to see some medics approaching. "Is this where you want the office, Sir?"  
  
"Yes. And that area over there," she pointed to the vast expanse between the isolation area and the barrier, "I want to be the staging area for the air cars. We need a decon unit and a resting area for the drivers. I also want you to cordon off an area to be used for transporting personnel in and out. I want it at least 50 meters from the isolation area, so that should put it just in front of the staging area."  
  
"Yes, Sir," the senior crewwoman said as she and her team set to work.  
  
Christine took a final look around and pulled out her communicator. "Carter, one to beam up."  
  
******************  
  
30 hours later, the containment area was completely transformed. The only constant was the group of townspeople still watching at the barrier.  
  
Christine walked with several nurses from the beam-down point to the diagnostic area. The young women were complaining about their respirators, but Christine ignored them. She turned to look at the containment area; from here she could see nothing of what went on inside. She knew from her frequent trips down to the planet and from the reports constantly being sent up to the ship that there were now 33 patients in the area. More were on their way from the several nearby urban areas. They were being moved in the Federation air cars in special negative-pressure isolation units. The families of those infected were being surveyed. Those that had had close contact would be brought along for observation. Those that were not deemed in immediate danger were given special miniaturized tricorder-communicators and were instructed to activate the machines three times a day. Their vital functions would be relayed automatically to the medical unit responsible for tracking their readings. If anyone failed to call in, even once, an air car would be immediately dispatched to bring him or her in.  
  
Christine watched as several Canarans who had apparently been exposed to the disease were sent out of the diagnostic area to a special holding area Carpenter and Moorehouse had asked to be set up. There were three stages but only the first one was in use at the moment. For the first week, which from the records they had received from the Ministry appeared to be the incubation period, the person under watch was fairly isolated, staying within their own families and not allowed to gather for group activities. Anyone who broke with symptoms was moved at once to the containment area. Whoever proved clean after a week was transferred to the second area where they would remain for another seven days. This stage allowed more contact and the people within could congregate in small groups. The final stage was at the very outskirts of the camp and had no protocols except that the person could not leave the area until the final week was over. Christine anticipated that this area would be the area most likely to give rise to problems as boredom overcame fear and the people looked for outlets to their restlessness. She had worked with Troi to install plenty of entertainment for the children and adults. She had been surprised when several of the priests had come to her and volunteered to stay in the area and offer comfort and religious instruction to the people within. They had understood that they would not be able to leave the area once they entered it. Troi had agreed with her initial assessment that their presence could only be a good thing so she had allowed them to set up.  
  
As she entered the waiting portion of Carpenter's section she saw a number of people waiting to be seen by the doctors. Anyone already showing symptoms was taken directly to the containment area. These people here were primarily the close friends and families of the victims that were either inside the other building or already dead. They had seen their loved ones die a horrible death and were now in this place because they too might be infected. Christine could almost feel their fear.  
  
"Commander." Carpenter's voice startled her out of her reverie. "I'm going over to start my shift at GZ. You want to come?"  
  
Christine nodded and they set out for the containment area. The crew had already dubbed it Ground Zero or GZ for short. As good a name as any, she supposed. It was accurate if not exactly optimistic.  
  
They passed several sets of guards before they came to the entryway. The sound of a scuffle caught Christine's attention and she turned to watch as several medics were trying to guide a young man into GZ. At first he seemed calm but when he saw the decon shield and the personnel in full biosafety suits waiting beyond it he began to panic.  
  
"No! Please don't take me in there. It's only a little fever. And an occasional nosebleed. I have them all the time. Really." His struggles intensified the closer they came. "No, please. If I go in I'll never come out again. Please!"  
  
"Damn it," Carpenter had moved quickly and grabbed a hypo spray from her pack. She had the youth sedated in a matter of seconds. As he stood numbly, waiting to be moved in, she turned on the medics. "The idea is to keep the patient calm. Next time sedate first. I don't want to see a repeat of this. Understood?" As her staff moved the young man into the decon shield she walked back to Christine.  
  
"If he had been actively bleeding, what we just saw."  
  
Carpenter didn't let Christine finish, "I know. It could have been catastrophic." She pulled out a tricorder and gave the area a thorough scan. "No evidence of blood, not even trace. We were lucky."  
  
Christine nodded, satisfied that this would not happen again. They moved into the first decon shield. Christine felt a tingle as the field did its work. This area served no purpose except being a gray area between the outside and the hot area. A second shield let them into the changing area, which was the beginning of the negative pressure rooms, designed to keep the infectious agents inside. The suits they would put on were positive pressure, which would keep the pathogens away from them. They changed carefully and bypassing the showers walked through the third shield into the area that the patients first saw as they entered. A fourth shield stood between them and the wards. Christine took a deep breath and stepped through. She imagined the tingle as her suit made contact with the field. Once she was clear of the decon shield her mind started imagining little armies of viruses attacking her suit. She would get sick; she would be the next one they had to drag into GZ. For a moment she felt blind panic and wanted to run from the room. She fought the feeling and took a step into the ward. Then another. By the time she was in the middle of the room the need for flight had subsided.  
  
Moorehouse had divided the room up into wards. Those patients in whom the virus had recently broken were in the area closest to the door. She looked around for the young man that had just been admitted and saw that the nurses were already administering fluids and antiviral support.  
  
"This area is where we can make the greatest difference," Moorehouse's voice sounded in her helmet. She moved into Christine's field of vision. "The sooner we begin supportive therapy the greater the chance we have to get the patient through this thing."  
  
"You're using antivirals? Ebola and Marburg don't respond to them."  
  
"We don't know that this is an Ebola type virus. It could be more like Lassa, which does respond. In any case, the antivirals we are using here have a low incidence of side effects. They can't hurt."  
  
"Are you going to try immune sera as well?"  
  
"Yes," Moorehouse motioned them to follow her as she continued talking. "Dr. Redmoon is isolating some even as we speak. We don't have that many patients to make it from yet because of those that survived only a few have been willing to come forward to give blood. But now that we have the patients here we will have a ready supply of donors. Even if they aren't quite willing," she added grimly.  
  
Christine watched the patients become increasingly ill as they progressed through the isolation levels. Finally they came to the last area. The patients here were gone, shells at best. Their eyes were red and did not close any longer, their faces already set in a death mask. The sheets that covered the mattresses were soaked with blood as their insides bled out from all available orifices, and some newly created. One old woman had tears in her skin where the flesh had dissolved away. Christine swallowed bile as she took in the scene.  
  
"Horrible, isn't it," Carpenter whispered.  
  
Moorehouse turned to look at her closely. "You aren't going to throw up are you?" When Christine shook her head, the other doctor continued to study her. "This isn't for everyone, Commander. It's no strike against you if you can't take it."  
  
Resolutely Christine let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "No. I can do this. It just takes some getting used to."  
  
"Ok." Moorehouse's attention moved from Christine to a young woman in a far bed who, unlike most of the patients, was moving. "Shit!" Moorehouse moved quickly to help, the other doctors following.  
  
"Epileptic seizure." Carpenter explained.  
  
A nurse that had been working close to the bed was already trying to help, but the patient began to thrash as the grand mal seizure took her. "Doctor?" the nurse nearly screamed as her suit was splashed. There was a thick layer of blood dripping down her faceplate.  
  
"Hold her down," Moorehouse instructed.  
  
The nurse grabbed the shoulders, watched as her hands caused the delicate skin to separate. "Oh god," she said as she held up her gloved hands, now covered in blood. She started to try to remove them. "Noooo," her moan was past hysterical.  
  
Christine moved to stop her, "No don't!" She knew in her heart she would be too late.  
  
The whine of a phaser rang out and the nurse slumped to the ground. A marine that Christine had not even noticed moved aside to let two medics by. They lifted the nurse carefully and carried her out of the room.  
  
Christine turned to the guard, who even under the thick faceplate looked shaken. "Well done, you just saved her life."  
  
"Yes, sir." The marine looked at the patient that had been seizuring. "Not hers though."  
  
Christine glanced at the corpse. "She was beyond saving, soldier."  
  
Moorehouse finished removing the life support equipment. She instructed the medics to take the body to a small room off the main ward.  
  
Christine followed her, leaving Carpenter to take care of the patients. "I don't remember this room in the plans."  
  
"It wasn't. I realized that we hadn't allowed for a place to do autopsies or prepare corpses. I had this added at the last minutes." She started taking samples that she would send up to the lab. "Commander, we still haven't worked out an adequate arrangement with the families and the priests on the burials. They expect us to hand over the bodies to them immediately. Their customs allow too much exposure with a corpse that is just as hot as the living patient was. We need to convince them to let us prepare the bodies."  
  
"I'll get working on it."  
  
Moorehouse called in two medics to prepare the body. "As it is now, we'll double wrap the body. And they'll unwrap it as soon as they get it home. Then they'll bathe it. Do you know what that really means? They clean up all the waste and blood, *all* of it.outside and inside.with their hands. One cut and the virus has a new host. It defeats the whole purpose of containment."  
  
"I understand. Maybe diplomatic can help. That's what they're here for, right?"  
  
Moorehouse looked unconvinced but nodded grudgingly. "Put the diplomats on it, about damn time they started earning their pay around here."  
  
*******************************  
  
"I must go in."  
  
Christine was walking back from town where she had been conducting surveys of the families of the deceased when she saw the High Priest arguing with the guards at the barrier.  
  
He saw the guards react to her presence and turned. "Ah, it is you. You are in charge of this abomination."  
  
"I am in charge of the medical mission, yes." She refused to rise to his bait. "How can I help you?"  
  
"Let me in. My people need me."  
  
"I'm afraid that's impossible. If we let you in then we can't let you back out."  
  
"Yet you move freely back and forth." His tone was sarcastic.  
  
"I also wear protective clothing and equipment, walk through special forcefields, and take frequent decontamination showers." She pulled him aside. "Your holiness," he didn't grimace at the title so she continued, "there is a way you can protect your people, all your people both here and outside."  
  
"How?"  
  
"For the duration of this epidemic we need your people to allow us to prepare the bodies of their loved ones for burial. Once we have done so they must not be disturbed. Your support in this matter would be of immeasurable help."  
  
"The funeral traditions are quite specific. Kormox himself dictated them. To change would be to admit defeat to this disease, to say it has power greater than Kormox. We all know that our god will protect those who worship him. They have only to pay him the proper respect. To ignore the needs of the dead would be disrespectful. Kormox would be angry."  
  
"Your people will die if they handle these bodies, possibly even if they sit with an unprotected corpse."  
  
"Kormox will protect them."  
  
Seeing that she was getting nowhere Christine turned and walked back to the guards.  
  
The priest hurried to catch up, then grabbed her shoulder stopping her progress. "You must let me in. My people need me."  
  
"Yes but they need you alive."  
  
He puffed his chest out, seemed to pull himself up to nearly her height. "I am the living representation of Kormox. Nothing mortal can touch me."  
  
Christine felt her patience wear thin. "Think of this virus as immortal then." She pushed past him and walked toward her office. The guards closed ranks behind her. She tried to ignore the sound of argument coming the barrier. Finally she turned around. "What now?" she yelled down to the guards.  
  
"Sir, he's threatening to make this a diplomatic incident."  
  
"Then get the damn diplomats down here." At his look of confusion she pointed up. "Call the Captain."  
  
"Of course, Sir. Sorry."  
  
**********************  
  
She was in her office going over the native animal list that Kavall had sent down when Spock entered. She didn't look up as she asked, "Got him all calmed down, did you?"  
  
"For the moment." He sat down in one of the spare chairs, managing to look calm even within the ventilator.  
  
"I couldn't just let him in." She looked to find his eyes only slightly disapproving. "He wanted into the containment area."  
  
"I know."  
  
Feeling like a child caught out by her parents and found wanting, Christine scowled at him. "What was I supposed to do, Spock? He wouldn't have been satisfied with anything less than full access."  
  
"I know that too."  
  
"Then quit looking at me with that disappointed expression."  
  
"Very well. You asked him about the burial rites?"  
  
"He was not inclined to listen to me. Spock, all our work will mean nothing if they don't observe containment after death."  
  
"I understand. Commander Troi will be working on the issue."  
  
"Good." There was a thick silence for a moment. "I'm sorry, Spock. I should have done better."  
  
"Probably. But your role here is to be in charge of the medical. Let's leave it to diplomatic to see if we can convince the Priest to work with us." He stood up and moved around to her side of the desk, lifted the animal list. "Are you any closer to finding the vector?"  
  
She shook her head in disgust. "No. We've trapped and tested fifty species of insects and all of the rodents as well as the companion and livestock animals. Nothing. No carriers and not one of the animals we've found has been exposed either. We're moving to birds next."  
  
"It has to have a source does it not?"  
  
She nodded slowly. "Yes, but so far we aren't even close to knowing what it is. "  
  
He put the list back down on her desk. "Well I will leave you to your search. Do remember to rest, Christine. You will do no one any good if you overtire yourself"  
  
**************  
  
Christine's days fell into an established pattern. For the most part she stayed out of the containment area unless they asked for her, both Moorehouse and Carpenter preferred to have her working as liaison between them and the community, the lab, and those trying to track down the source of the virus. To that end, she helped Farrell with the surveys and had been happy to report to Spock that they had run up against the eastern edge of the outbreak. One side was now drawn in on their contagion map, once they had the other three they could set diplomatic against those settlements that weren't in the hot areas.  
  
She checked the latest reports. So far 15 people dead. Christine had worked hard on the people taking the bodies, explaining why they should leave their relative in the wrapping the Starfleet doctors had provided. Some of the family members seemed to accept what they were told and Christine had noticed that these people were not showing up in the groups of newly infected cases. But many were, in fact so far this week ten were traceable to having handled the dead. If they could just stop this practice they would stand a better chance of stopping the virus, which Redmoon had dubbed Canara Seltax Virus or CSV. He had isolated it soon after the containment area had been set up. It was a filovirus similar to but not a match to Ebola. It did not respond to antivirals so they had discontinued that therapy but immune serum did seem to have an effect. The survival rate for new cases was up to 75 percent, thanks in good part to Moorehouse's aggressive therapies and the fact that the disease was responding to the survivor's blood. But at the beginning they had lost nearly 85 percent of all the advanced cases. Christine had spent much more time in GZ during that time helping with the support of the worst cases. She had been horrified by the carnage that the virus wrought on the bodies of the patients but she had continued to go in to help until the first cases had burned themselves out.  
  
They had suspected early on, and Redmoon had confirmed that aerosol transmission was not a factor. That meant that those outside of the containment area could work without the uncomfortable respirators. And even many of the staff within GZ had moved back into the more comfortable hazard uniforms and ventilators while others, less trusting, kept wearing the suits. So far no one in the medical staff had contracted the disease. If anyone was inclined to get sloppy, Moorehouse and Carpenter were quick to reprimand them. They were determined that people pay attention to what they were doing and intended to have no casualties on their watch.  
  
Farrell and Christine were no closer to finding the source of the virus. They had interviewed so many people that the stories had all merged in Christine's mind. She knew that they were missing something and looked back over her records to the first recorded cases. They had started their interviews with the family and friends of these people but Christine suddenly had the idea to try again. One woman in particular had struck her as knowing more than she was saying. Christine resolved to talk to her the next day. For now, it was time to return to the ship. She walked slowly to the transporter area, using the decon field before calling up to the ship for transport.  
  
Once back in the ship she grabbed some food at the nearest mess hall and carried it back to her office to eat. She knew that she should be resting but wanted to catch up on the official messages. She ate as she read and when her comm unit chimed she ignored it. It rang again. Damn it all, she thought as she hurriedly swallowed her last mouthful of food. She voiced her irritation in her reply, "Chapel here."  
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir." The Beta shift communications officer sounded extremely nervous.  
  
She instantly felt bad. Not his fault, she shouldn't take it out on him. "What it is, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Sir, I've just been notified by a Starfleet Command shuttle that they will be rendezvousing with us in a few minutes to drop off an incoming crewmember."  
  
"What?" Christine tried to remember if the Carter was missing any crewmembers. Her exhaustion made it hard work. "A new crewmember? For what section?"  
  
"Diplomatic, Sir."  
  
Christine sighed. She was so far behind on the messages between the ship and headquarters. She supposed that a whole new crew could have been arranged during her time on the planet. "Very well. "  
  
"Sir, do you want to meet her? Or do you want me to notify the Captain."  
  
"I'll go now. Please notify Captain Spock as well."  
  
"Yes, Sir." The channel went dead.  
  
Goddess give me strength, she thought tiredly. I really don't have the energy for this. She shut off her padd and entered the turbolift for the short ride to the transporter room. She nodded to the ensign on duty then turned to the pad.  
  
"They're ready for transport."  
  
"Energize."  
  
"Aye, Sir."  
  
The beam appeared and as she watched the figure of a woman appeared. For one moment before the image solidified into a person she thought she saw the figure waver and distort. She blinked several times then looked again. An old woman stood on the pad. I must be more tired than even I realized, Christine thought uncertainly.  
  
The woman looked at her, her eyes boring into Christine as if reading her very soul. Her expression was like stone, then, as if liking whatever she was seeing in her examination, she broke into a smile. The gesture spread the wrinkles around her face, her eyes nearly disappearing into the laugh- lines that radiated up her cheeks. Christine found herself smiling back.  
  
The woman's voice was strong and deep and her walk firm as she moved off the pad. "Ambassador-at-large Ts'its'tsi'nako reporting for duty, Commander."  
  
"Welcome aboard, Ambassador Ts'i." Christine stumbled over the name. The woman laughed and the sound seemed to ring up and down Christine's spine.  
  
"Just call me Nako." She turned as the door opened and Spock walked into the room. "Ah, *Captain* Spock. How you have grown."  
  
Spock inclined his head, "Ambassador Nako. Welcome aboard."  
  
"You used to call me *Grandmother* Nako, Spock." Her smile was warm.  
  
"I also used to be three years old." Spock's tone sounded almost teasing. Christine could see him visibly relaxing in Nako's presence.  
  
Who is this woman, she wondered.  
  
"Allow us to show you to your quarters," Spock said as he gestured for her to precede him. He turned to Christine, speaking softly, "I have given her the quarters that were to have been Colonel Kerr's."  
  
"Logical."  
  
They had to hurry to catch up with the ambassador. She may look old, Christine thought, but she certainly doesn't act, or sound it. She watched the woman's jacket billow out behind her. It was intricately woven from beautifully dyed fabric. Her pants were also woven although of a different pattern. She made them herself, Christine suddenly felt certain, although how she knew she couldn't say.  
  
"Nako," Spock asked when they were again by her side. "I was surprised that you would ask for service on the Carter. You could lead a mission of your own if you chose. You have been offered the role of Head Ambassador for the Federation multiple times but have always turned it down. Now you are here, on a Starfleet vessel, in a minor role? I am surprised."  
  
"I have my reasons, Spock." She turned to Christine, dismissing him entirely. "You are exhausted beyond measure."  
  
Surprised, Christine looked into her eyes and saw only compassion. "Yes," she said simply.  
  
"I wish I could tell you it would be over soon."  
  
"I know it won't." Christine tried to smile but knew that the end result was more of a grimace. "We can't stop this if they won't give up their funeral rituals. We can do all the containment in the world when the patients are alive. What good does it do if the body is put right back among the populace once it is dead?"  
  
"The people won't listen?"  
  
Christine snorted disdainfully. "The Priest won't listen."  
  
Spock hastened to explain. "He has power nearly on a level with the Minister. We are here over his deepest objections. And I'm afraid that Commander Chapel has not had the best dealings with him."  
  
Christine laughed in spite of the seriousness. "You're such a master of understatement, Spock."  
  
Nako seemed to watch them with interest and Christine suddenly felt self- conscious. She was glad when the lift deposited them on deck 2.  
  
"Your quarters are along this way," she said as they walked down a branch of the hallway. She heard a door open and Redmoon stepped out of his quarters. Christine called out to him. "Dr. Redmoon, you have a neighbor at last."  
  
He walked down politely to say hello. His expression as he gazed at the Ambassador turned thoughtful.  
  
"What is it, Grandson?" Nako's face was serene as she looked at him.  
  
He seemed to shake himself. "You looked familiar for a moment, Ambassador."  
  
She laughed. "I have that kind of face, Redmoon." The way she said his name seemed to make two words of the syllables. "Well, this old woman is tired from her journey. If you will excuse me?" Once the others had said goodnight she let the door close behind her.  
  
"And I'm keeping someone waiting. If you'll excuse me?" Redmoon hurried down the hall.  
  
Somewhat uncomfortable, Christine turned to Spock. Before she could say anything he indicated the hallway with a small nod of his head.  
  
"Shall I walk you home, Christine?"  
  
She smiled. "That would be nice, Spock."  
  
As they rounded the corner she thought again of Nako. "So you didn't request Nako?"  
  
"No. I know her from long ago. She worked with my father on an extremely sensitive diplomatic matter. She often visited us when I was young."  
  
Christine smiled at the thought of a three-year old Spock. "Why is she here?"  
  
They had reached her door. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head slightly. "I imagine she will tell us that when she is ready. In the meantime we should be glad to have her. My father once told me that Nako was the most astute negotiator he had ever witnessed. He said it was as if she could enter a person's katra and read the truth that lay within."  
  
"Then we are lucky she is here." Christine turned to her door. "Good night."  
  
"Sleep well, Christine."  
  
The familiar words touched her more than she wanted. "You too, Spock."  
  
*******************************  
  
"Am I going to die?"  
  
Christine felt her heart wrench as the girl looked at her trustingly.  
  
"We're going to do everything we can for you, sweetie."  
  
The girl's face fell. "I'm going to die aren't I?"  
  
"Not if I can help it," she said as she took a look at the adolescent's readings. Fever too high, blood already seeping in too many places.  
  
"My mother died." The girl shifted tried to get comfortable, grimaced as every movement brought a stab of pain. "I got it from her didn't I?"  
  
"I don't know, honey."  
  
Christine had come into GZ to help out but had really not been needed. She had noticed the young girl lying in the corner of the last ward. She had seemed so alone as she bore her suffering. Christine has been sitting with her for the last several hours.  
  
"That's what I don't understand. My Father kept me away from her. I never saw her when she was sick. Not till the funeral. When we took care of her."  
  
Christine fought the rage that threatened. One more unnecessary death. How many more would there be?  
  
She was about to answer but the girl had drifted off again. The lapses into catatonia were becoming more frequent. Her brain was being affected. In a way it was a blessing. Or she assumed that the pain disappeared along with the girl's personality. It was too awful to think otherwise.  
  
She rose and walked over to watch Carpenter move around the patients that had been brought in with the child. All of them involved in the funeral. Damn this world. Damn the unreasoning stubbornness of the Priest and his religion.  
  
She moved back to the girl's bed, sat in silence broken only by the hiss of her respirator. For hours she watched over the now expressionless child. She sat vigil as the girl's tired heart gave up, too weakened to pump as it drowned in blood. As the girl died Christine was there, not touching, seemingly composed but feeling her resistance, her determination crumble in the face of this latest death.  
  
"She went fast," Carpenter was unhooking the life support. The other doctor took a close look at Christine. "You did make a difference, you know. You stayed with her. I'm sure she knew that."  
  
"A difference? I'm not making any damn difference here at all." Christine rose. Tears stung her eyes and finally fell freely to pool at the bottom of her goggles. She saw the compassion on Carpenter's face, wanted none of it. "I'm going up. I've had enough of this planet."  
  
She navigated carefully through the ward toward the exit. The guard gave her a sharp look but she found the presence of mind to stop and talk to him, knowing she had looked panicky, realizing he had almost stopped her with his weapon. A few seconds later she was on the move again. Through the barriers, into the showers, back into her hazard uniform. Then out, into the fresh air, and to the transport area.  
  
"Carter, one to beam up." Get me the hell away from here, she silently pleaded. Please just let me forget.  
  
************************  
  
From her vantage point near the bar Christine saw Kerr rush into the Special Forces Lounge. She took another long drink of her whisky. She watched as he asked one of the marines something, saw the young soldier point her way. Oh oh, she thought woozily. Someone's in trouble.  
  
He made his way hurriedly through the crowd of off-duty marines. She smiled and gestured broadly, nearly spilling her drink in the process. "Hey sweets. Pull up a chair."  
  
"Christine." He seemed to consider whether he wanted to sit down.  
  
"Randall." She fought the impulse to giggle. "I guess somebody told on me?"  
  
He sat. "I guess so. You want to tell me why you're in here drowning your sorrows?"  
  
"Nope." She took another swig then put down the empty glass. "Barkeep!" She yelled a little too loudly.  
  
The marine acting as bartender looked over but turned away when Kerr shook his head.  
  
"Hey!" Christine glared at him. She spoke very slowly. "I.want.another...drink."  
  
"And I want to be boyishly handsome, but neither are likely to happen."  
  
She rose to go get the drink herself, but his hand covered hers. She tried to pull away but his grip was like iron. "Let me go, Colonel," she hissed at him.  
  
He rose slowly, moved to stand in front of her, effectively blocking the rest of the room's view of their conversation. "Commander," he said firmly, "There is one of two ways this is going to play out. Either you walk out with me now or I carry you out. I suggest you pick the first option if you wish to preserve any semblance of dignity."  
  
She moved closer to her. "Leave me alone, Randall. I don't want you here. I'm doing just fine."  
  
"Two choices, Christine. In a moment I'm going to pick one for you."  
  
She set her glass down with a bang. "Fine. I'm tired of this place anyway." Without waiting to see if he was following she pushed her way through the crowd. "Can't even relax without some busybody meddling in my business," she muttered as she stumbled to the turbolift.  
  
She felt rather than heard him come up behind her. "Touch me and die," she warned him.  
  
"I have no intention of touching you. I just want to get you to your room before you do something you regret."  
  
The lift deposited them on deck 2 and he followed her to her door.  
  
"Sure you don't want to tuck me in," she said sarcastically.  
  
"Very sure." He turned to leave.  
  
Anger surged through her. And desperation. "Randall?" Her voice wavered.  
  
He looked back. "Good night Christine."  
  
"Come in for a while," she cajoled.  
  
He closed his eyes for a long moment. His shoulders tightened as he whispered, "And do what?"  
  
She moved toward him, stopped just short of touching him. "Anything you want," she purred. "Wouldn't you like that?"  
  
His eyes opened slowly. "More than you probably realize, Christine. But it's not going to happen tonight. How about you ask me again when you're sober?" He turned her toward her door. "Go to sleep."  
  
She tried to turn, "Randall."  
  
He gave her shoulders a little shake. "Don't insult us both by asking again, Christine. Now get some rest."  
  
Suddenly, through the drunken haze she was in, she felt shame flood her. "I'm sorry." She tried to turn but again his hands stopped her.  
  
"Go to bed, Christine. This never happened."  
  
She nodded and walked back to her door. Staggered inside, thought she heard him curse softly as the door closed. She leaned against the wall for a moment. What the hell just happened? What am I doing? She found the replicator and ordered some detox. Injecting it through her clothes she fell into her bed. Sleep followed instantly.  
  
*******************************  
  
"You wished to see me?" The Priest's tone was imperious as he stepped out of the sanctuary and into the waiting area where Christine stood.  
  
I don't like this man, she thought bitterly as she tried to form a friendly smile. "I wished to clear the air between us. I was not at my best the last time we spoke."  
  
His look did not change.  
  
I *really* don't like this man, she corrected as she continued, "What I mean is perhaps I didn't spend the time I should have explaining what exactly we are doing here. And why we so desperately need your help."  
  
"All the children of Kormox, even godless interlopers such as yourselves, are welcome to the assistance of the High Priest."  
  
Not quite what I meant, she mused. "In the matter of the burials then."  
  
His expression darkened immediately. "The matter of the burials is closed."  
  
Must not lose my temper this time, she thought desperately. Don't think of the child. "But we."  
  
He did to let her finish. "We shall not discuss it again."  
  
A new voice sounded in the room. "Surely you are not afraid of a frank and open discussion."  
  
Christine and the High Priest turned as one to see Nako standing in the doorway.  
  
The old woman moved confidently into the room. "Commander Chapel, I took the liberty of inquiring as to your whereabouts. I thought perhaps I could be of assistance."  
  
"Old woman, what possible help could you be?" the Priest sounded indignant.  
  
Nako turned to him and their eyes met and held. She was not the first to look away. "What help indeed grandson. Perhaps you and I could speak more privately in there?" She gestured to the room the Priest had come from.  
  
For a long moment no one moved. Then the Priest nodded slowly and retreated to his sanctuary, Nako close on his heels. When Christine got up to join them the ambassador stopped her at the door.  
  
"This is not your fight, child. Go back to the mission." When Christine started to argue, Nako gently laid her finger against her First Officer's lips. "No arguments."  
  
Christine stared rebelliously at the older woman. Who the hell was she to order her around? But the infinite patience in Nako's eyes stopped her. "I'll go back and wait," she said softly.  
  
"Everything will turn out as it should, granddaughter. You'll see." Nako turned and closed the door gently in Christine's face.  
  
*******************  
  
Two hours later, Christine's comm unit went off. The guards were warning her that Nako was on her way back. Barely stopping to save the work she had been doing, Christine hurried out of her office and rushed to meet the diplomat. "Well?"  
  
"He will instruct his people to allow you and your doctors to prepare their dead. He will tell them to bury their loved ones quickly and hold memorials for them afterwards."  
  
"How?" Christine was delighted but stunned.  
  
"My dear, surely you know a good diplomat doesn't give away her secrets." Nako's eyes sparkled as she looked at Christine.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Just an old woman who knows a thing or two about people."  
  
Christine shook her head. "I don't believe that."  
  
"Believe. Don't believe. That is up to you." She took Christine by the arm, "Now I want you to tell me what has made our Captain so sad. I have never seen Spock so full of pain."  
  
"It wouldn't be proper to discuss him with you," Christine protested, even as she let Nako draw her back into her office.  
  
"I dandled him on my knee when he was a toddler and made him laugh. I saw what a misery the children of Vulcan made his growing years. And I observed the rift grow ever wider between him and his father. But I have never seen Spock so hurt. What has happened?"  
  
"Kirk. His death." Christine faltered.  
  
Nako grimaced. "Of course. I should have realized." Her eyes were serious as she turned and demanded, "Tell me everything."  
  
And Christine did.  
  
*******************************  
  
"Commander, you've been here twice already. What more do you think I can tell you?" The Canaran woman studied her curiously.  
  
"I'm not sure. But please, could I come in? Just for a minute?" Christine knew this woman held a piece of information that she just hadn't found yet. She had believed it nearly a week ago when she had paid her a second visit, and she believed it still.  
  
With a long-suffering sigh the woman moved aside to let her enter. She trailed Christine to the sitting area in the front of the dwelling.  
  
"You said you weren't sure how your brother contracted the disease."  
  
"That's right."  
  
They had been over this ground before. Christine tried to think of another way to approach it. "Your brother was one of the first to get sick. He and the friend who worked on his boat. And a bunch of naval guardsmen."  
  
The woman looked up in surprise.  
  
Christine continued. "We just found out about the sailors. The Ministry was keeping their deaths quiet. Or the priesthood was." Christine waited for the woman to comment, when she didn't she sighed in exasperation. "This is a new twist. Can't you see that? These deaths have a connection now. They all were seamen. So the source of the disease is somewhere they all were."  
  
"Maybe my brother caught the disease from the sailors?"  
  
"No. They came down nearly at the same time. They were infected together or nearly together. Where would they have met? Was there a bar at the harbor that they all congregated? Or someone's house they might have all gone to? A mutual friend perhaps?" Or girlfriend, Christine thought to herself. Prostitutes were deadly during an epidemic like this.  
  
"My brother would never have spent time on the wharves. He hated fishing. He inherited the boat from our father but he was trying to get out of the life. He worked all the time to earn the money to start over somewhere far from the sea."  
  
"But he must have had places he liked to go when he was in harbor."  
  
"Yes, his apartment to sleep. That's what I'm trying to tell you. He was exhausted most nights. He didn't have the time to do more than fall into bed to get up the next day and start over. His drive to get out of this life wouldn't let him goof off. All he wanted to do was get rid of that damn boat."  
  
This was going nowhere. Again. Christine rose. "I'm sorry if I've upset you." She walked to the door, the other woman not even making the pretense of seeing her out. Then a thought struck her as she reached the entrance. She turned around. "Where is it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The boat."  
  
The woman's expression became guarded. "I don't know."  
  
"But it's yours now, isn't it?"  
  
By the expression on the other woman it was clear she was unsure how to answer the questions. Christine pressed her advantage. "Yours to sell or use. Where is it?"  
  
"I don't know." Her voice was now desperate.  
  
"You're lying." Christine knelt in front of the woman. "Whatever made your brother sick, might be on that boat. He might have brought it back with him." No effect. She rose, towered over the other woman. Her voice was cold. "Tell me what you know," she ordered. "Damn it! I'm not leaving until you tell me what you are hiding!"  
  
Something seemed to go out of the Canaran. Her shoulders slumped. "It is forbidden."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"To speak of the boat."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It was on the holy island. Kampara. It is taboo to be there, taboo to even approach it."  
  
"Kampara?" Christine had never heard anyone mention it.  
  
"It is forbidden to even speak the island's name."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It is the home of Kormox. To visit it is death."  
  
Perhaps literally, Christine thought. "And your brother's boat was there?"  
  
"Yes. He was fishing. Heard a distress call. From the guardsmen. Their boat had broken down. Drifted to the island. He and his partner had gone to help. They had set foot on the island. I think they explored it but he would not admit to that. He told me this when he got back, before he got sick. Swore me to secrecy, but he didn't have to. To speak of it would have been to suicide. In the past there have been those who thought there was treasure on the island. They went there. Those that weren't struck down by Kormox were killed by the priests. It is forbidden."  
  
"Those that weren't struck down? There have been other outbreaks of this before?"  
  
"In the far past. It is whispered of sometimes."  
  
"Someone has known all along." Anger warred with relief at having a possible suspect in their search for the source of the virus.  
  
"Please, don't tell them I told you." The woman was truly terrified.  
  
"I won't. The guardsmen are the angle I'll use. Your brother's name, if it comes up, will do so as part of that discussion." She rose to leave, then realized that her original question had not been answered. "So where *is* the boat?"  
  
"In impound. In the harbor. I think."  
  
And possibly virally hot as hell, Christine thought angrily. "Thank you. I'll protect your information. I promise."  
  
"It's been so hard not to say anything. He was my brother. I loved him. I want to know what happened to him."  
  
"So do I." Christine gave her a grim look. "So do I."  
  
*********************  
  
In her office on the ship, Christine laid out everything she knew on a padd, detailing the dependencies and possible correlations that she had learned from the sister of the sailor, as well as from her own subsequent investigation. She studied the data again. One thing was sure. She had to get on that boat. Rising she made her way to the bridge.  
  
The senior crew was on duty. Their smiles of welcome when she had entered the bridge were warm. Even Sabuti seemed genuinely glad to have her back, even if only on a temporary basis.  
  
"Saldusta, please patch me through to the Ministry."  
  
The comms officer worked for a moment, then she announced. "The Second Minister is ready for you."  
  
"On screen." Christine smiled at the Canaran woman. "Minister. I have good news. I believe we have found a possible lead on the virus. But I am having difficulty getting some answers. I was hoping you could help."  
  
"If I can be of assistance, then please ask."  
  
"We believe the guardsmen that were among the first victims are key. I have been trying to trace their movements during their last weeks. Unfortunately everyone I have spoken to has refused to help."  
  
The Minister's expression became somewhat less open. "It is a matter of some delicacy."  
  
"So I have come to understand," Christine replied wryly. "Minister, we are here at your request. If we don't find the source of this virus, it will surely recur. Possibly with even more dire repercussions for your population."  
  
"I will of course see what I can find out for you Commander. And we do appreciate all your help."  
  
Stonewalled again, Christine thought bitterly. Time to play the wild card. "Minister? Before you go I have one more question. During my investigation, I've spent some time in the harbor area. I couldn't help but notice that you've dedicated a rather large area of the dock as well as a substantial amount of guardsmen to one small boat. Can you tell me about that?"  
  
The Minister's face went cold. "I don't believe so, Commander. Ministry out." The screen went dead.  
  
*****************  
  
Christine was on her way to her quarters when she heard someone behind her call out, "Commander Chapel?" She turned to see Saldusta hurrying to catch up.  
  
When she reached her, Saldusta motioned her to keep walking. "I have something I wanted to talk to you about, Commander. In private."  
  
Christine felt her whole body tense. She was so exhausted. Couldn't this wait? "I appreciate your urgency, Lieutenant. But perhaps we could do this another time."  
  
"This isn't a personal matter, Sir."  
  
They stopped in front of Christine's door. She sighed. "Ok then. Come in."  
  
Saldusta waited till the doors closed then rushed to explain. "Do you think that the boat you mentioned to the Minister has something to do with the outbreak?"  
  
Christine looked at the younger woman in tired confusion. "Possibly. I didn't realize you were interested in epidemiology?"  
  
"I'm not. I'm interested in helping you."  
  
Christine sat down at her table. She tried to make sense of Saldusta's words. "Help me how?"  
  
"With the boat. If I read between the lines correctly, you want access to it. But your problem is that for now you can't get to it." She stopped. Looked down then back up to meet Christine's gaze with eyes that shone with confident purpose. "I can. Nobody would ever know."  
  
For a few seconds there was no sound in the room except for the gentle hiss of Saldusta's humidity device. Then Christine realized what the woman was offering.  
  
"No. Absolutely not."  
  
"But why? You need to get out there. I can do it. I can get whatever information you need."  
  
"It's too dangerous. Far too dangerous." She could tell the communications officer didn't agree with her. "Saldusta. I want your word that you won't try this. I don't want you to. Give me your word."  
  
"But."  
  
"Your word. I'm too tired to play games. Give me your word or so help me I'll put you in the brig until we leave orbit."  
  
Saldusta looked startled. "You can't do that."  
  
"I know a few people in Security. Now give me your word or I'll call one of them."  
  
The woman looked completely defeated as she mumbled, "You have my word."  
  
Christine reached out, put her hand on Saldusta's shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, Saldusta. I do. I can't tell you how much it means that you are willing to try. But it's too dangerous. Do you understand?"  
  
"I guess." Her face tightened as she turned to leave.  
  
"Saldusta?" She waited till the other woman turned back. "If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have reacted so strongly."  
  
The other woman stared back at her, the look of betrayal slowly disappearing. She finally gave a small smile and nodded her head. "Good night, Sir."  
  
"Good night, Lieutenant. Thank you."  
  
As the door closed behind Saldusta, Christine thought again of that boat, bobbing innocently in the impound area. I will get on you. If it's the last thing I do, I will get on you.  
  
*******************************  
  
"Chris?" Farrell's voice sounded just outside Christine's office.  
  
"Come on in, Ren." She looked up to see her friend poke her head in the door. "What's up? Is something wrong?"  
  
"Nope. But I need you to come out to the staging area." When she didn't move, Farrell scowled. "Now, Commander. Please?"  
  
Sighing Christine put down her work and followed the other woman to the transport area. A group of health workers were already assembled. Christine could see Moorehouse and Carpenter in the small crowd and even Redmoon had beamed down. "What's going on?" she asked as they neared the group.  
  
"A celebration. A small one anyway," Ritsuko emerged from behind the others. "I thought you could all do with a little party. I provided the food." She gestured to the spread laid out behind her. "Now it's up to you to provide the reasons."  
  
Moorehouse spoke up quickly, "How about the fact that we've had no new cases in 54 hours?"  
  
Restrained clapping broke out.  
  
Christine felt herself getting into the spirit of the occasion. "How about Nako's arrival? We never would have got through to the Priest without her. But I'm damned if I know how she did it."  
  
Carpenter laughed, "Who cares *how* just *that* she did it!"  
  
"Hear hear," Redmoon agreed.  
  
Farrell laughed. "I've got one more. We just finished indexing every species native to this area and found no vectors. Not perhaps the results that we wanted, but a milestone nonetheless."  
  
Ritsuko gave her a shy but familiar smile. "See I knew there would be a reason for me to bring this down." She pushed Moorehouse and Carpenter to the table. "I know you two have to get back to GZ, so you go first."  
  
The food was worthy of a diplomatic feast and everyone set to eating with gusto. Christine laid claim to the sushi rolls and had to be forcibly removed by a grinning Farrell who warned the catering head, "Run Umachi, before she asks you to marry her for your cooking."  
  
Christine felt some of her tension melt as she enjoyed the chance to eat and talk with her colleagues. Claiming that duty called, Ritsuko beamed back up to the ship and the nurses and medics drifted back to work leaving the senior medical staff in an impromptu meeting. Christine quickly briefed them on her suspicions of the boat and the island.  
  
Farrell frowned as she listened. "But how are we going to get on the thing? It doesn't sound like you made any headway getting them to cooperate."  
  
Christine smiled confidently, "*I* didn't. But I bet I know who can."  
  
*********************  
  
"Spock, I'm glad you came." She met him at the entrance to the medical camp. "I want to show you something. Come on." She strode off then realized he was not following. She turned back. "Well come on."  
  
He raised an eyebrow as he caught up with her. "You seem quite exited by something. I take it you have made some kind of breakthrough?"  
  
She nodded fiercely, "I think so. It's this way." She maneuvered through some broken fence.  
  
"Christine, I do not think we are supposed to be in here."  
  
"Just come on, Spock." Her tone was impatient as she walked quickly over the weeds and dumped machinery that littered the area. Finally they came to the shoreline. The harbor lay just ahead; many ships tied to the docks, the men and women that worked them moving purposefully. At the end of the area a containment fence decorated with the colors she had come to associate with the priesthood of Kormox surrounded one dock. A dock that stood unutilized except for one small vessel. There were a larger number of guards guarding it than she remembered from the last time she had snuck in to look at it. Apparently her call to the Ministry had served only to increase security.  
  
"Whatever it is we're looking for is on that boat," she said pointing to the impound area.  
  
Spock studied the scene. "It does appear to be under significantly more security than it's appearance would warrant." He turned back to her. "We received a call this morning from the Ministry, confirming that they could not help you. I take it you spoke with them?"  
  
"Yes. They know something, Spock. I can feel it in my bones."  
  
"Not precisely scientific, Christine. And I'm afraid, irrelevant. According to the Ministry, the Priest has declared the boat taboo. There is no chance that you will get on board."  
  
Christine explained to him about the island, what she had learned from the sister of the sailor. "I want to get to the island. But we have to start with the boat. I think if you were to talk to the Minister, try to reason with him? Maybe he could make an exception. Maybe he would go around the priest. It must happen occasionally."  
  
"We would be deliberately disregarding this culture's religion and traditions."  
  
"For the sake of its survival, yes."  
  
"We have already had an impact on their culture. The burial rites, the isolation areas. I am afraid we have reached the end of their cooperation. I am a diplomat as well as a Captain. You are asking me to ignore the things this world holds most valuable." He turned to walk away.  
  
Anger erupted inside her. Hours and days of non-stop work and worry came to a head. She grabbed him. Physically yanked him back to her. His surprise was palpable. "No, you cold hearted bastard! That's not what I'm asking." She pointed out to the harbor again. "I'm asking you to get me that boat! One stinkin' boat. One! And we can save lives. For one.damn.boat." She let go of his arm and stormed off, no longer caring if he followed her or not.  
  
**************************************  
  
"They are prepared to release the boat."  
  
Christine looked up, unprepared for Spock's presence at the door of her makeshift office or his words. "What? How?" She circled round her desk and walked over to him.  
  
He met her in the middle of the room, eyebrows rising in self-deprecating humor. "It seems you were right about the Minister. He cares more for his people than for religious superstition."  
  
"So the boat is mine?"  
  
He nodded. "Just tell them where and when you want it and it is yours."  
  
She didn't think, she just reacted, launching herself into his arms and hugging him furiously. "Thank you! Thank you!" Just as she realized what she had done she felt his arms tighten around her.  
  
His voice was low in her ear, and she thought his lips brushed her hair as he said, "You're welcome, Christine. I am only sorry that you had to shame me into getting it for you in the first place."  
  
They stood that for a few minutes, warm arms holding tightly before he pulled away. "So where and when *do* you want it?"  
  
"Tomorrow afternoon, in the open water. We'll beam out to it. We'll need it dragged out. Oh and we'll also need a couple of ships to stand guard. I can't imagine that the priesthood is going to sit by silently while we desecrate their boat."  
  
"I'll make the arrangements."  
  
She followed him out the door, intent on telling Moorehouse, Carpenter, and Farrell the good news. As she walked she placed a call to the ship to let Redmoon in on the wonderful surprise.  
  
*******************************  
  
"Energize."  
  
Moorehouse, Chapel, and Redmoon all in biosuits appeared on the deck of the small sailing vessel. They were floating out in the open sea, flanked by three Ministry ships, one of which was busy keeping out a smaller boat flying the Priesthood colors.  
  
"Didn't take them long to stage a protest," Redmoon noted wryly.  
  
"I was afraid of this." Christine looked toward the horizon. It was empty. Where were the other ships? Surely the Priest wouldn't just send one? It was barely a token protest.  
  
Moorehouse's voice shook her out of her reverie. "Let's get busy." She was already scanning the boat. "Trace elements all over the place here."  
  
"I'm getting it too." Redmoon adjusted his equipment, narrowing the scan. "Someone or something was wounded when it was brought aboard here" He pointed to some stains on the boards. "This blood is old now. I don't know how much data we'll get. If we could just find a convenient rodent or bug."  
  
Christine sighed in frustration. "The ship was in harbor long enough for any rodents to leave before now." She scanned the far end of the ship. "I'm coming up zero on flying insects. But there is a spider-like thing in here just under this board." She pointed to a storage area.  
  
Redmoon pulled out one of his traps and scraped the creature inside. "Anything else?"  
  
Christine shook her head. "Not on my tricorder."  
  
"Mine either." Moorehouse concurred.  
  
Christine scanned the stains. "This blood matches the Canarans we've been treating. One of the guardsmen might have been hurt, maybe scratched himself or was bitten by something on the island. Definitely traces of the virus here. But they wouldn't have been showing symptoms, much too early."  
  
"There's nothing to find here." Moorehouse sounded dejected.  
  
"Commander Chapel?" One of the guardsmen was hailing her. "Is it safe to approach?"  
  
"Yes." She saw the guardsman say something to the men on the Priesthood boat. Then he threw back the line he had forced them to relinquish and motioned the boat to move ahead. It headed toward them.  
  
"What the hell?" Redmoon turned to her in confusion.  
  
As the small vessel neared, Christine was surprised to see the High Priest standing next to the pilot.  
  
"You didn't find anything did you?" For once the Priest didn't sound smug.  
  
"Trace elements only. The virus was brought onto this boat from somewhere. Somehow, I think you know where that might be, your holiness."  
  
The man met her eyes squarely. "You think me a man lost to reason, don't you Commander?" He continued before she could answer. "I am not. I have prayed and fasted and begged Kormox for an answer to this terrible crisis. I am not immune to the horror that has overtaken us." He seemed thoughtful for a moment before he pointed off to the north. "We need to go there, to Kampara."  
  
"We?" Christine asked in shock.  
  
"We." He said firmly. "I have gone through our records. This has happened before. It is always hushed up. For the good of the people. Because it was deemed Kormox's will. At first I thought that is what I should do too. I would rise to the challenge that Kormox had set for me. Keep the sacred things from being profaned. But I cannot believe that our God wants us to die for no reason. That he would abandon us. And he did not. He sent us you. It is a lesson in humility that beings as vexing as you and your people could be the one that will show us a new way."  
  
Christine resisted the urge to give him a sarcastic reply. "What do *we* do?"  
  
"We recreate the path the guardsmen took. I have their statements with us. They are somewhat incoherent but I believe we can retrace their steps. We can use this vessel to get there."  
  
"I'll need to contact my ship, get some more biosuits sent down."  
  
"Fine." He held out his hand," The sea is calm, you should transfer over now."  
  
Silently praying to every goddess she could think of that this wasn't a trick, Christine grabbed his hand and let him pull her to his boat. As Moorehouse and Redmoon followed her, she called the Carter and asked for Kavall. "You'll need to scan the High Priest and his men. I need biosuits set for their measurements sent down immediately."  
  
"Aye, Sir."  
  
As the boat set out for the island, one of the Guardsmen's ships followed them. The other two veered away to return to harbor.  
  
"Commander?" Kavall's voice sounded loud in Christine's helmet.  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"Suits are ready, beaming down now."  
  
The bulky equipment materialized and Moorehouse and Redmoon began assisting the priests in putting it on. Christine looked back to the little sailing boat still bobbing gently in the sea. The sister of the owner could not use it now, not when it was still considered taboo. "Lieutenant, are you ready to destroy the ship?"  
  
"Yes, Sir. Awaiting your command."  
  
"Keep the beam narrow.and fire."  
  
From the heavens a bolt of light streamed down and obliterated the small craft. The priests, to give them credit, looked on in awe but little fear.  
  
"No readings remaining, Sir."  
  
"None here either, good work Kavall. Stay on this channel. If you lose contact with us, beam us directly to GZ, do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, Sir. Good luck."  
  
We're going to need it, she thought, as the island came into sight on the horizon.  
  
*******************************  
  
They had circled the island three times now. Redmoon had taken every reading he could think of but the water and the sea creatures within were still coming up clean. He straightened up and shook his head. "Whatever it is, it's on the island. The water is normal, the animals are virus- free."  
  
They had not really thought it would be in the water. But they had to be certain. Christine turned to look at the island. The priest joined her. She sought his eyes within the helmet. "We have no choice, your holiness. We have to go there."  
  
He looked out at the island, turned back to her. "I know. It is the only way." As Christine started to move away he surprised her continuing, "Commander? I do have a name."  
  
She smiled, "I never doubted it." She was shocked to see an answering grin.  
  
"Since *your holiness* is so cumbersome why don't you just call me Rishud."  
  
"Ok. I have a name too, if you want to use that instead." He seemed to consider the prospect for longer than necessary. Then she realized he was teasing her. Imagine that, she thought. "It's Christine."  
  
"Christine." He seemed to be trying it out. "Christine, Christine, Christine." He nodded, apparently satisfied. "We met on difficult terms. I am not usually considered an unlikable man."  
  
"If you say so," she offered glibly.  
  
He looked at her askance, then relaxed. "Now it is you who teases me."  
  
"Commander? Your holiness? We are at the site that the guardsmen used to land on the island. Shall we take down the small boat?"  
  
Christine spoke first. "No. We beam over. These suits are strong, but I don't want to risk their integrity any more than we have to." She looked at the team. "We've gotten spoiled with the rounded corners of GZ. This is the real world. There are things that can slice and tear. Be very, very careful once we are on the island. Understood?" She waited for each member of the team to nod before calling the Carter and requesting transport.  
  
They reappeared just above the surf line. It was clear from the remnants of the tracks in the dry sand that the route they were tracking had gone into the trees. The Priest was shocked. "They should not have gone into the woods. They knew better. It was an affront to Kormox to explore here."  
  
Moorehouse was taking readings on the sand. "Same as the boat. Trace elements here but nothing hot. Whatever we're looking for is in there." She pointed to the woods.  
  
Christine turned back to the Priest. "We have to go in there. If we are going to find the truth." He looked about to protest but she continued quickly. "I know it is an insult to your god to go in without his permission. But perhaps if you were to explain to him. To offer him the respect he needs. Perhaps then we will go with his blessing not his wrath following us?"  
  
"Do you mock me?"  
  
Christine shook her head, "I'm serious. This is a holy place. Only the god can make us welcome. You are the emissary of the god. Only you can talk to him."  
  
"I will try." The priest's eyes closed and the others drifted away from him back toward the water's edge.  
  
Christine looked out at the boat, where the others from the priesthood still waited. They had not appeared surprised or upset that Rishud was cooperating with the offworlders. She was hopeful that the High Priest would give them the god's approval.  
  
"We can go now. I have told Kormox all that I can. I have told him that you are in charge."  
  
"Thank you." She approached the jungle's edge. "We need to take it slow. Follow whatever signatures from the tricorder or visuals that we can find that might give us an idea where the guardsmen and possibly the sailors went when they were here."  
  
Redmoon stepped up to her. "The signatures are very faint. This won't be easy. As for the visuals, there isn't much to go on. Things grow fast in this environment. We'll be lucky to see anything."  
  
"Understood. You lead, Dr. Redmoon." The team set off into the trees, the light immediately getting dimmer as the forest closed up around them.  
  
It has to be here, Christine thought grimly. And if it is, we're going to find it.  
  
************************  
  
Five hours later, they were back on the sand.  
  
Sweat was dripping down her faceplate but Christine called for another sweep through the woods.  
  
A hand on her arms stopped her from moving. Moorehouse's voice was gentle as she said, "No, Commander. No more."  
  
"But it's there. We know it's there."  
  
"Yes. We do." Moorehouse's eyes shone with sympathy. "But we've made five passes already. We've been in caves, we've tested the stream, we've dug up soil samples, we've scanned the wildlife. And it's not here."  
  
"It is," Christine insisted. "We just aren't looking in the right place."  
  
Redmoon shook his head. "We may never find it. CSV is proving as elusive as its sisters. You know that we haven't found the vectors for Ebola and Marburg yet either. Somehow, in some way we don't understand, these viruses go dormant for long periods. They come alive again when some opportunity in the form of an animal or human presents itself to them. But somehow until that happens they survive.unknown, unthreatened, possibly right underneath us."  
  
"We can't just give up." Christine looked at her doctors, then at the Priest.  
  
"Kormox has no answers," he said firmly. "You have done your best. There is nothing to find. It is time to leave." He moved to her side, took her shoulders and turned her away from the woods and toward the sea.  
  
She allowed him to push her away from the trees. "What then? Kampara is never spoken of from this point on, just as it was before? Till one day, someone comes here again and the whole thing starts over?"  
  
"I am uncertain what Kormox will want me to do. I don't think hiding the truth is the answer anymore. But we need to keep people off this island. And we need to depend on more than just the fear of taboo I think. Perhaps the Federation could help us with that? Some kind of sensor that would tell us if anyone got too close." He looked at Christine hopefully.  
  
She smiled encouragingly. "I think that we probably could do that."  
  
"Good. Now, not to be critical, but could we please get off this island and out of these suits. I feel as if I am going to die in here."  
  
"Yes, of course." She turned for one last look at the trees before signaling the Carter to beam them back to the boat.  
  
They lost no time in getting out of the biosuits. None of them smelled too fresh, but the wind that met them as the boat made full speed back to harbor at least cooled them off.  
  
Once they had tied up, Redmoon beamed up to the ship with the few samples he had collected. "Don't hold your breath for anything earth shattering. I'm sure this will be just more of the same.'  
  
Christine knew that he was probably right. She felt Moorehouse squeeze her arm and shot the other woman a grateful smile.  
  
"I'm going back to GZ, you want to come or are you going back up to the ship?"  
  
Christine pointed up. "I'll need to report this in. The Captain will want our estimate for how much longer we will be needed."  
  
Moorehouse thought for a moment. "Probably another week. Our last cases will be strong enough to leave GZ by then and those in the isolation area will be on the final phase."  
  
"You have done well here, all of you," the Priest surprised them both with his comment. "I have not said Thank You. I have been remiss. You have saved many lives here. You have made a great difference to our planet."  
  
Christine felt her eyes fill up. She blinked hastily. "Your world is beautiful and peaceful. It would have been wrong to stand by and do nothing."  
  
"I must go. The blessing of Kormox be upon you." And the Priest was gone, striding purposefully down the dock as he called to his aides.  
  
"An interesting man," Moorehouse said quietly.  
  
"Yes. More open-minded than I realized."  
  
"I'm not sure anyone is really what we think at first. Seems like everyone is pretty complicated once you get to know them."  
  
Christine laughed. "A doctor and a sage? I'm not going to tell Starfleet about that or they'll start charging me double."  
  
Moorehouse smiled back and set off down the dock. She turned back to yell, never breaking stride as she walked backwards. "We done good, Commander! I think this calls for one hell of a party when we all get back on the Carter."  
  
Christine yelled back. "I'll get on that right away."  
  
The other woman waved in reply and turned around.  
  
Christine watched her for a bit then turned around again to look at the island. Give it up, Chapel, she silently berated herself. Just give it up.  
  
"Carter, one to beam up."  
  
*******************************  
  
"My planet cannot thank you enough, Captain Spock." The First Minister spoke earnestly. Behind him, stood the High Priest.  
  
"No thanks are necessary, Sir. It was our duty and our pleasure to be of assistance."  
  
"Pleasant journeys to you and your crew, Captain. Canara Seltax out." The screen went blank.  
  
"Our new orders are sending us to Felstrar Colony, in the Boriaus sector." Spock instructed those gathered on the bridge.  
  
"Course plotted and laid in, Sir." Sabuti answered.  
  
"Mr. Kimble, take us out of orbit."  
  
"Aye-aye, Sir." Kimble was clearly glad to be going somewhere again.  
  
Christine sat in silence. Unutterably relieved to be saying goodbye to Canara Seltax and also very glad to find herself once more on the bridge with the senior crew.  
  
"Lt. Sabuti, you have the con." Spock rose, turned to Christine. "I should like to speak with you in my ready room."  
  
"Of course." She rose and followed him into his office. She wasn't exactly up for lecture on the diplomatic woes of the Felstrar Colony but she wasn't about to tell Spock that.  
  
"Sit down, please." He gestured to one of his couches and not to the chair in front of his desk. She sat and he chose a seat near her. "You have done well. You and your team."  
  
"And a good portion of your team as well. We couldn't have finished the surveys without them."  
  
He nodded acceptance of her words. "I am pleased with this crew."  
  
She smiled softly, turned to look at the stars streaming by the window. "They are a fine crew, Spock."  
  
"I have not been a fine Captain though."  
  
She turned to him in surprise. "Actually you've been an excellent Captain."  
  
He seemed taken aback. "I shut you out."  
  
"Well *Spock* shut *Christine* out. But I think the Captain and the First Officer did ok together. I'm learning that there is a difference."  
  
"Interesting. It is a hard lesson."  
  
"Yes. It is."  
  
"I have struggled with the pain I felt. With the grief." His eyes met hers. He seemed to study her intently. "I am still struggling with it."  
  
"I know. It will take time to lessen."  
  
"I find it difficult to speak of this."  
  
"To me, you mean." She looked away again. "You need to find someone you *can* talk to, Spock. Maybe Nako or Troi?"  
  
"Nako has been to see me. I found her counsel of value. But I miss your advice. I miss you, Christine."  
  
"I didn't go anywhere. I'm right here, Spock. I've been here the whole time."  
  
"I realize that. But.it is still fairly crowded inside me."  
  
"No room for me at all, huh?" She decided she wanted to escape before the conversation got out of hand. She rose quickly. "If there is nothing more I'm going to get back to work, Spock."  
  
His voice rang out, stopping her before she reached the door. "We never had that celebration dinner. Perhaps tonight?"  
  
She turned to him. "We can't, the medical department is throwing the mother of all parties or have your forgotten?"  
  
"I was trying to."  
  
"Well you have to put in an appearance. And I'm one of the hostesses."  
  
He nodded in defeat. "I will be there. Dinner tomorrow then?"  
  
"You're on, Spock." She found herself grinning at him. She walked the rest of the way to the door. Before it opened she turned back. "Spock." He looked up. "I've missed you too."  
  
Their eyes met and held in a moment of perfect understanding. Then she turned and walked back to her own office to finish up the medical reports.  
  
****************************  
  
The party was in full swing and Christine was having a wonderful time. Music, loud conversation, people filling 3-Forward and spilling into the corridor. It was incredibly chaotic and she felt herself relaxing for the first time in what was only weeks but seemed like much longer. She glanced over at Spock talking to Redmoon and Moorehouse. She could tell by his body language that he was about to bolt. Such opposites we are, she laughed to herself.  
  
"Hey stranger." She turned and saw Kerr standing behind her, sipping from a glass and holding another that he promptly handed to her. "Peace offering?"  
  
"Were we fighting?"  
  
He grinned and she couldn't help smiling in return. "I don't know. You haven't talked to me since *that night* and I thought I better track you down."  
  
"I haven't said how sorry I am about that."  
  
"It's forgotten. I said that then and I meant it. You just weren't supposed to forget me along with it." Again the grin that she found so irresistible.  
  
"I haven't. I've been a little busy."  
  
"I know. Saving a planet, charming a priest, solving the mystery."  
  
Christine laughed out loud. "These people," she gestured to the medical staff, "saved the planet. That woman," she pointed to where Nako was standing with Sovar and Penhallon, "charmed the priest, and nobody solved the mystery."  
  
"So what *did* you do?" he teased.  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
"Well when you think of something let me know, because I want to take you out for a celebratory dinner. In fact, how about tomorrow?"  
  
Suddenly she felt very self-conscious. "I have plans tomorrow." She looked up at his trusting gaze. "With Spock."  
  
His expression didn't change. "So you guys are finally making up. That's good. I know that will be a load off your mind." He took another sip from his glass. "So the day after then."  
  
"The day after?"  
  
He grinned. "For dinner?"  
  
"But I'm having dinner with Spock."  
  
"Yeah, I heard you the first time." He leaned in, pitched his voice so only she could hear it. "You don't think I'd give up that easy do you? One dinner and you want to count old Randall out of the running? I don't think so, Christine." He leaned back and again lifted the glass to his lips. His eyes dared her to contradict him.  
  
For once, Christine found herself at a loss. "I'm not sure."  
  
He took pity on her. "It's going to be a long voyage, Christine. Who knows how this will all turn out? Now are you going to have dinner with me or not?"  
  
Laughing helplessly, Christine held up her hands. "Ok. I will."  
  
"Great." He leaned in again. "Relax Christine. You don't have to choose right away. You can have us both.for awhile anyway." And with that he walked away to join Kavall and Saldusta at the nearest food tray.  
  
Christine felt an arm on her shoulder. Farrell, obviously a little tipsy, pulled her down so she could whisper in her ear. "Our first mission is over, Chris. And we did good, don't you think?"  
  
"We did, Ren. We really did." Christine looked up to find Spock's eyes upon her briefly before he turned to leave. She smiled her goodbye and laughed when his eyebrow rose in response. As she turned to Farrell she caught Kerr's attention. He lifted his glass to her.  
  
"It's going to be an interesting voyage." Farrell said, hugging her.  
  
Christine laughed and hugged her back. "Very interesting indeed."  
  
FIN 


End file.
